Harry Potter and the Litany of Blood
by jon3776
Summary: The brother wands had a farther reaching affect than anyone could have predicted. Harry's fifth year will be a time filled with vampires, ancient magics, new love, and the most dangerous thing in the world-a woman scorned...HFleur and HGirl!blaise
1. Home Sweet Dursleys

I am going to be uploading better formated versions of the first four chapters over the next several days. I still own nothing so don't sue.

Chapter 1—Home Sweet Dursleys

* * *

Most children would be excited about summer vacation. They would glad to be home after spending nine months in a boarding school. 

Harry Potter was not like most students.

He watched the countryside fly by his window, landmarks flowing together into an unrecognized blur. His Uncle, Vernon Dursely, sped home as if he could outrun his nephew's magical nature. Harry's eyes, which everyone remarked bore an uncanny resemblance to his mother, were dull and lifeless. The vitality and energy which had made him one of the most well liked students at Hogwarts had been leeched out by the events of the past year.

This year, at the Triwizard tournament, which Harry had competed in, a friend of his and a fellow competitor was killed. And not an accidental death that was an outgrowth of the dangerous nature of the tasks that had been set before them. No, Cedric Diggory was murdered. Murdered by the same man that killed Harry's own parents and left a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

Voldemort. Thomas Riddle. The greatest dark wizard to show himself in the British Wizarding World. The wizard, who for some reason unknown to Harry, decided to kill Harry's parents and attempted to do the same to him. His mother's love forged a ward to shield him from death and allowed an unblockable curse to rebound upon the darkest of dark lords.

"What's wrong boy?"

Harry's uncle, the walrus-like Vernon Dursley, gazed at Harry in the rearview mirror. The boy, as Vernon liked to refer to Harry, was unusually subdued. Never excited to come home under the best of circumstances, he seemed defeated and deflated. It disturbed Vernon more than he liked to admit. Never, in all his years, had Vernon Dursley seen Harry look so bleak.

"Nothing, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied flatly. "Just glad to be home," he continued robotically.

With a snort and a shake of his head, Vernon returned his attention to the road, his brief lapse into concern thankfully quashed.

* * *

Harry carried his trunk and owl cage into his room. It wasn't his room really. Nope, it was Dudley's second room. Here where he'd grown up (he'd never call it a home) and he didn't even have his own room. The small bed was shoved in one corner and a single battered desk was pushed near the window so he'd have enough light to work on his summer studies. The walls were bare except for some old posters of Dudley's. The closet was filled with poor fitting hand me downs. 

Hedwig hooted at him and he mechanically gave her some food before throwing himself on his hand-me-down bed. He stared at his wall for a long moment before realizing a faded poster of Keith Richards didn't have any answers.

Here he was again.

A survivor, when others, who actually deserve to survive, didn't.

_Kill the spare_, echoed in his mind.

_Lets take it together_, came another thought.

Cedric lying still and quiet, his life stolen by a wizard's breath and flash of green. The lost look of his parents when they finally realized their prized son was killed. Cedric Diggory was a good man, a person anyone would have been proud to call son. Harry remembered the earnestness of the youth, when he shared what he knew about the second task. The jut of his chin and that infernal hedgehog like stubbornness and sense of fairness of his house when he insisted they take the trophy together.

Harry was tired. Tired of being the boy who lived. Tired of the stares, the whispers about him being fame mad or a glory hog. Tired of well meaning students and Wizarding adults looking at him like he was the next coming of Merlin.

Just tired of it all.

* * *

Petunia Dursley, controller of all that was good and normal in the house of Dursley straightened a crooked photograph of her family that was precariously tipped in the hall. after she adjusted the portrait, she paused to admire it. Her dudders and hubby were so handsome in the picture. They wore iden- 

A keening wail cut through her quiet home. Rushing down the hall, she made her way to Harry's room to tell the boy to shut up and keep the house cloaked in the blessed silence she craved.

All of that was forgotten when she saw what Harry was doing.

He was wailing into his pillow. Screaming with all his might, his body shook with the force of his emotions. Grabbing the pillow tightly, Harry wept into comforter. All his rage, all his fear and guilt were poured out. A part of petunia knew that were she a better person, a better woman, she would take the boy in her arms and hold him till he was cried out. Petunia, however, was not a good woman and she chose to do nothing.

Petunia was still motionless when he looked up. His pale face was blotchy and those damnable green eyes of his were ringed in red. His face curled in a grimace and he snapped, "What do you want?"

Petunia Dursley blinked and gapped like a starving fish. Her mouth worked and nothing came out of it. Finally she spoke.

"N-Nothing. I was just surprised by the sound. I'll leave you alone." Petunia rushed out of the room, pausing for only a minute by the door. "I'll make breakfast in the morning. Just this once, mind you," she added sternly.

Harry blinked in surprise before squeaking out, "okay."

Petunia walked stiffly of the room, and Harry moved to his owl cage. Opening the door, Harry held out his hand, and his beautiful owl jumped onto it. He absently stroked the feathers of his most selfless of friends.

"Do you think that Aunt Petunia has gone mad, Hedwig? Is she going to be tolerable this summer?" The owl reached forward and nipped at his ear. "Yeah, I don't think it'll last either."

It didn't.

* * *

Harry's funk lasted for several more days. After the first day, where he got a reprieve from his aunt, he started to do the chores his relatives expected of him. He cooked, he cleaned, and he mowed the lawn and sheared the hedges with robot-like efficiency. But astonishingly enough, the routine and standard treatment by his aunt and uncle brought him out of his depression.

A few days after he got home from Hogwarts, he came inside the house to grab some lemonade his aunt had made. He was hot and sweating from raking the leaves all morning and some ice-cold lemonade was sounding really good. He discovered that there was only a little bit left and after he poured it into a glass, Dudley walked in.

The son of Vernon and Petunia Dursley had grown even larger since last summer, but a regime of exercise and boxing lessons had started to turn the bulk into muscle.

Muscle that Dudley love to throw around the neighborhood.

"Give me that. I'm hot."

Harry jerked the glass away. "I'm the one actually doing work Dudley."

Dudley pushed Harry and stretched up to his full height, which was at least four inches taller, that Harry's five foot six inch frame. "What are you going to do," he taunted. "Magic me into a frog?" With surprisingly fast hands he grabbed Harry and twisted his arm until the smaller boy let go of the glass. grabbing the lemonade, Dudley pushed Harry away and downed the drink.

"Awww, is ickle Harry upset?" Dudley teased as he wiped his hand across his mouth and many chins.

Harry clenched his fists but did nothing. His emerald eyes burned in his head as he stared at his fat cousin. Harry shook with helplessness. He hated the feeling, but really, what was he going to do. His cousin was stronger, and much, much, larger. And did he really want to fight Dudley over lemonade?

His lemonade.

Harry's scar began to hurt. A dark, throbbing pain that seemed to give birth to something black inside of Harry. He hated his cousin at that moment. He despised the fat, worthless, pig. He was so angry he didn't even register the ugly turn his thoughts just took.. His scar burned and on instinct, Harry pushed toward Dudley with his mind.

_Fatty Fat Fatty_ a girl's voice giggled in his mind

_Nobody but his mommy likes fat Dudley_, a different girl's mocked

_Fatty, Fatty, Fatty, Fatty..._A chorus of voices echoed in Dudley's mind

The voices swiftly became a cacophony of condemnation of Dudley.

"No," Dudley whispered, "No, no, NO!" he shrieked. The larger boy rubbed his head. "I'm not fat, I'm not, I'm not," he kept muttering as he stumbled out of the kitchen.

As soon as he left the voices in Harry's head quieted. The young wizard blinked as he contemplated what had just happened. Had he just read Dudley's mind? That was impossible. Nothing he had read in any of his books of magic had showed him how to do that. He wouldn't have learned it even if he could. The last thing he wanted to do was to peer into someone elses thoughts. He grew sick when he remembered the terrible things that had gone through his mind about Dudley.

Harry sat down at the table bonelessly as the magnitude of just what he had done sunk in. He didn't know how he did it, or really even the reason why. It was just some stupid lemonade. Dudley had been taking stuff from him for years. Why did lemonade send him over the edge? Harry shuddered. It would have been so easy to go deeper into his cousin's thoughts, sift through them and make Dudley experience every hateful thing that had ever happened to him. Harry knew that if a few moments could reduce him to tears, it would be child's play to ruin his mind forever. All he needed to do was to reach out and...

Harry shook his head and went back outside, shaken at the darkness of his thoughts. He knew that his cousin would leave him alone for the rest of the summer for fear of what Harry would do to him

And there was a small part of Harry that was laughing about it.

* * *

Dudley never told his parents what had happened between he and Harry.

* * *

"GET UP BOY," Uncle Vernon bellowed from downstairs. "You bloody well should have up an hour ago. I need to get to the plant." 

Harry Potter groaned at sat up slowly. He spent another long night hoping Hedwig was going to come in. He'd sent the snowy owl out more than a week before with some letters for the Weasley family and Hermione but she'd failed yet again to make an appearance. Although she'd taken a long time to deliver messages before, something was tickling Harry's intuition this time. Something was wrong, but without his owl, he possessed no methods of getting any information.

He had been home more than two weeks now and he had not gotten a single owl from one of his friends, Dumbledore, or Sirus. He had seen Voldemort come to life and call upon his Death Eaters and he wanted to know what was going on. No way were they just going to be quiet and act covertly. Not when they've been waiting almost fifteen years for their leader to come back. He watched the muggle news but there was nothing about an increase in killings or mysterious happenings but that didn't mean anything. Aurors could be oblivating people and keeping Death Eater activity quiet.

It was driving him insane.

Harry slowly plodded down stairs and made his way into the Dursley's kitchen. Vernon was already sitting down and eating his breakfast, stuffing down milk, eggs, and sausage in his traditionally huge quantities.

"Listen boy," Vernon began as he talked around his breakfast. "Petunia and Dudley will be gone for several days to visit my sister Marge. I'm going to leave to join them after work today. Poor girl broke her foot and is distraught about her lack of visitors." At that Harry snorted. Marge Dursley was as thoroughly unlikable person as had ever existed. Who would really want to visit her? Vernon shot his nephew a look but continued, "You're too old for sitters and more importantly I don't want to spend the money so we're going to leave you alone."

Harry perked up. Home without the Dursleys. His summer vacation might not be so bad. For four days at least.

"Mind you, no unnaturalness or strange people coming over boy. Mrs Figg from next door is going to be keeping an eye on you. so behave." Vernon Dursley punctuated his threat by jabbing at his nephew with a grease- covered fork.

"Yes Uncle Vernon."

* * *

Harry stretched out on the grass in his backyard and plopped down several of his old textbooks on transfiguration. One of the idea's that had been bouncing around in his head for the past couple of years was becoming an Animagus. His father had been one and his godfather too. So was Peter Pettigrew, the fourth marauder and the one who betrayed his parents. 

Harry had decided, privately, that he was going to follow in his father's footsteps and become one himself. He had planned to talk to Hermione about it during their fourth year but the triwizard tournament had distracted him.

It was a warm summer day. The perfect reason to get some outside studying done in the peaceful Dursley-less house. Cracking open his fourth year transfiguration book, he started to read.

_Animagi (Animagus-Sing.) _

One of the more common types of powers unique to wizards, nonetheless animagi are uncommon because the talent, while possessing an inborn component, also requires a number of magical effects to be utilized in order for the natural abilities to fully come out. Unlike similar abilities (see metamorphmagi Pg 357 and blood shifters Pg 428), which manifest around magical puberty, most people with the animagi talent never actually become animagi. The rituals required bringing out the talent required extensive knowledge of transfiguration magics, but also charms and the use of the proteus potion in order to allow the prospective animagi to assume their animal form. Most potential animagi do not possess the necessary ability in one or more of the arts necessary to become an Animagi.

A second deterrent is that many people do not possess the necessary discipline to tame the transforming power. In order to become your form, it is necessary for the wizard to embrace the change, to want to allow the creature into their heart, mind, and soul. A wizard who makes his first change is never the same. Many of the animals traits carry over into human form. Sometimes those traits can be simple, like a craving for certain kinds of foods. Other times it can be far more significant. One ancient sorceress who had been a noted scarlet woman before she discovered her animagus form of a Unicorn. After her initial transformation she swore off all carnal activity until her death more than 2 and a half centuries later.

_Another deterrent is that the prospective animagi cannot choose their form. A simple spell revelo protean cast over primal clay will twist the clay into the form of the casters animal. The spell can also serve as a test for students to see if they have any animagus talent at all because if they don't possess the inborn talent the clay will simply turn into a statue of their human form. _

No one is sure how the animal form for any person is chosen. Some specialists have theorized that an individual's personality is a primary factor, although it must be stressed, no one truly knows. Virtually every animal across the globe has been documented as animagus form in someone, from cats and dogs to earthworms and crickets. Some magical animals have been known to appear as potential forms, including hellhounds, unicorns, and in one extraordinary case from Shanghai-a Chinese Fireball dragon. Such forms are exceedingly rare and no student who wishes to be an animagus should get their hopes up about their form...

The rest of the section on animagus was a short history of the spells required to release the potential within the wizard as well as several cautionary tales about unsupervised young wizards who meddled with the transformation spells and had horrible mishaps including one wizard who grew a horn out of his...

"Wow," Harry muttered as he stared at the book, open-mouthed. "That sounds painful." Leaning back on the grass, he soaked up the sunshine and took a breather from his reading. His mind drifted to his parents. He wondered how his father had discovered how to become an Animagus and what his mother had thought about it. Did she even know? Was she one too?

For the first time in a long time, Harry was truly alone with his thoughts, away from all distractions of school and life; he realized he knew next to nothing about his parents. What were they like when they were his age? When did they start dating? What did they do to fill Harry's gringots vault with gold and silver?

Harry knew one thing. His parents loved each other very much. He could hear the ache of their love every time he got near a dementor. The love between his parents seemed an almost palpable thing. Harry wondered if he would ever find love like that. He knew there were girls that liked him. They giggled enough around him, but it wasn't real--it wasn't love. It was just some silly kids who fell for a legend and who wanted the hero of the stories for their very own.

As his thought twisted down the path of women, Harry could not help thinking about Cho Chang. The stunning Chinese ravenclaw was not out of his thoughts much during his fourth year. He still cursed his fear at asking her to the dance so late. If he had actually shown some gryffindor courage earlier she would've gone with him...but she didn't. She went with Cedric, the other Hogwarts champion and a powerful seventh year wizard in his own right.

Then Cedric died

Harry can still see the crystalline tears that wound down her porcelain features at the ending feast and the long look she sent him when she left. He still liked Cho but the thought of still pursuing her; left him...well it wasn't a pleasant thought.

Harry closed his eyes and let the warm sun drift over him. There were still lots of very attractive girls at Hogwarts. Cho was one of the most beautiful, but she was hardly to only one. All of the houses, even slytherin, had their beauties. In his own year, Hannah Abbot was probably the most beautiful, although Lavender Brown, the Patil twins, and even Blaise Zabini of Slytherin were close behind. There were other girls from various houses outside of his year he'd noticed but since you rarely associated with people outside your year except for Clubs and Quiddich, he didn't know their names.

Harry snorted. Listen to him, carrying on about girl's looks. Like any of them were going to pay attention to him at all. Fame or not, Harry was hardly an impressive looking young man, aside from his startling eyes and pain-inducing scar. Five foot six and barely one hundred and fifteen pounds, with wild hair and thick glasses; Harry was no ones version of a stud. Maybe Hermione could give him some girl pointers this year.

He shook his head at the thought of Hermione. Everyone was so eager to believe that there was a romance between the two of them. The thought of snogging his best female friend still was enough to make him laugh. There would never be anything between them besides friendship. Besides Ron would kill him. The poor kid had been nursing a crush on her for ages. Maybe this year he would actually do something about it.

Letting his mind drift away from chaos inducing women, Harry just sat in silence for what seemed like eternity with his eyes closed. He could feel the sun on his face and the soft wind rustle the trees. He let the stress and pain of the past year leech from his body and for the first time in a long time, felt at peace.

His peace was disturbed by a sharp bird's cry. Frowning, Harry opened his eyes and saw a large horned owl clutching a letter, slowly spiraling towards him.

* * *


	2. The Trouble With Journalists

Ch. 2- The Trouble with Journalists

* * *

Harry shaded his eyes as the horned owl sailed towards him.

I hope no one notices this, he thought to himself. A giant owl sailing to Number Four Privet drive was hardly an average, ordinary, occurrence. The owl dropped right in front of Harry and cocked its head.

Harry reached forward and grabbed the letter that was attached to the owl's leg. Curiously he opened the letter.

_Dear Mr. Potter _

I believe in you. No matter what the daily prophet says about you and your state of mind I think that what you said happened at the Triwizard Tourney was what happened. I believe you. Lord Voldemort is back. Just wanted to let you know that.

Amber Winterhawk

Clipped to the letter, which she apparently sent to support his story about Voldemort retuning was an article from the Daily Prophet

_Mad Ravings From the Boy Who Lived? By Nicholas Warwick _

Everyone knows the sad and heroic tale of the boy who lived. Famous before he was even a year old, Harry Potter is one of the most celebrated wizards in the United Kingdom despite the fact he is not even out of school yet. Yet now it appears that the desire for more fame or perhaps mental illness has caused our beloved Boy who lived to fabricate an astounding tale about the return of the hated dark lord who slew his own parents

Yes, you heard me right. Harry Potter claims that You-Know-Who has returned the very night of the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. The same task that led to the mysterious death of Cedric Diggory. A young man, who, this reporter learned, was dating a young woman who Harry fancied. This reporter does not wish to make an unsubstantiated allegations, but we at the prophet sincerely hope that this matter is given full due diligence, with no special treatment given to Mr. Potter.

When asked about Mr. Potter's assertions that the dark lord has returned, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge replied, " there is of course no truth to the allegations that You-Know-Who has returned. The ministry has taken over the investigation of young Diggory's death and we will get to the bottom of it."

_Young Harry Potter is not without supporters of his own. Headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore has been quite outspoken on the supposed "return" of the Dark Lord. Once a highly respected Wizard, perhaps most famous for his defeat of the Dark Lord Grindlewald in 1945, some say headmaster Dumbledore has become quite dotty in his declining years. Quotes one Lucius Malfoy-Deputy Minister of Magic, " Headmaster Dumbledore should have been removed from his post years ago. He hires half-blooded wizards and werewolf's to fill out his teaching roster and shows blatant favoritism to his own former house over that of other houses that are more worthy of respect. Finally he has been known to coddle to Potter boy and has been hiding signs of the poor lads frail mind for years. Why in the boy's second year..._

Harry crumpled the clipped article and flung it way. Bitterly Harry smiled at the letter. At least one person believe the disturbed Boy-Who- Lived. Yeah. All of a sudden the warmth of the day was spoiled and Harry gathered up his things and started inside.

As he did so he noticed several more black dots in the sky that resolved themselves into dozens of owls. All of them bearing letters.

_I believe you... _

I'm with you all the way Mr. Potter...

You're a horrible, horrible boy...

You stinking liar...

My Daughter is a second year Ravenclaw. Stay away from her...

You're so brave Harry. Enclosed is my picture...

Harry goggled at the last letter. The young witch who sent it was certainly...well developed.

The letters had been coming all afternoon. Owls of types and every color sent letters both supporting and deriding Harry. Even more exotic birds like Ravens, Hawks, and in one case, a miniature albino vulture delivered mail. Harry couldn't tell what was worse. The blindness that some people exhibited about the return of Voldemort or the blind faith that everyone else seemed to have in him to solve their problems.

Every time an owl dropped by to give him a letter. He hoped he would see the snowy white form of Hedwig. And every time he was disappointed. The cold knot in his stomach refused to abate. Hedwig had been one of the few constants in his life since he discovered he was a wizard and he loved the beautiful bird. As afternoon darkened into evening, and birds continued to come to give letters to Harry, he kept a look out for his snowy owl.

But she never came.

* * *

The next morning Harry decided to go for a run. The mental inventory he did of his appearance while thinking about the various women of Hogwarts depressed him and he decided to do something about it.

Putting on some shorts that the durselys had bribed him with last year before important business people came over for dinner, Harry took off down the street.

One thing that Harry possessed was endurance. He began with an easy, loping stride. As the houses drifted by, his mind wandered to the goings on in the Wizarding world. He barely knew anything and what he did know was from clipping strangers had sent him. Just thinking about it made him start running faster, as if he was trying to run from the anger that was building within him. The people that knew him best were keeping him in the dark and they KNEW how much he hated that. He hated the secrets about his parents, he hated that he never knew about Sirus, he hated that for some magical reason he was safest with relatives who barely qualified to be human.

As he raced down the street, Harry spiteful wondered why Ron or Hermione hadn't written to him. Had they, and some well-meaning servant of Dumbledore, taken the letters so he would be kept in the dark. Or maybe a servant of Voldemort had taken the letters. Were they even in the country? Hermione seemed quite taken with Viktor Krum. Was she with him? Was Ron visiting one of his brothers outside the country? He couldn't exactly blame the Weasley parents if they wanted to keep Ron away from him. He was after all, dangerous to be around.

Lungs burning Harry turned around and started to run back to his house. His muscles ached and the legs protested the exertion. Leg muscles weren't exactly developed while broomstick flying.

When he got home, he ran into Mrs. Figg, who seemed surprised to see him exercising. The polite elderly woman, whose only company seemed to be an assortment of cats in various shapes and sizes, had babysat Harry a number of times over the years before he started going to Hogwarts. The hawk faced, gray haired woman smiled at Harry, rendering her stern features soft.

" Hello dear," she told the boy brightly. " I wanted to check up on you and bring you some cookies." She held up a covered plate.

As he bent over and heaved to catch his breath, Harry took the cookies and motioned for the woman to come inside. Mrs. Figg walked inside and took in the well-ordered kitchen. " So are things going well for you Harry? Getting good marks in school and all that?" As she talked, her eyes drifted to the kitchen table, which was piled high with the letters the owls had been delivering. " My, My, Harry! Quite the popular boy aren't you." She reached over to grab one of the letters. " Are all of these from your friends at school?"

Harry quickly grabbed the letter before she could look at it. " Umm...these...are...these are from some...girls at school," Harry stammered out. " They're kind of private."

Mrs. Figg laughed and withdrew her hand. After speaking for a few more minutes she departed giving one last look at both the letters on the table and the red-faced boy who so fiercely defended them. Harry could swear there was a knowing twinkle in her eye as she left.

But that was impossible. Wasn't it?

* * *

The weather, having taken a turn for the worse, forced Harry to study inside his house. Curling up on the Dursley's sofa, he cracked open his fourth year dark arts book and started to read it. Thanks to the pressure of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry actually got excused for most of his classes that year to allow him the freedom to train and research spells on his own. One of the sections in his dark arts book was on the psychology of Dark Wizards and after the fiasco of Barty Crouch Jr, and Voldemort, Harry was more interested than ever how dark wizards thought the reasons for why they did what they did.

_Chapter 7- Why Good Wizards go bad _

Essay By Alastor Moody

All magic has an emotional core to it. It is too easy to write off certain kinds of magic as evil when merely the intent is evil. Are the unforgivable truly always unforgivable or are their situations where their use should be sanctioned? After all any magic can be used for ill purposes. Why then are only some kinds of magic labeled dark arts and other kinds of magic aren't? After all can't an animagus use his powers to kill, can't a necromancer use his powers to bring peace of mind to the bereaved?

Seems reasonable doesn't it. That's the trap that many decent wizards fall into. They think just this once. It's for a good cause. If I mean well then it's not really dark magic.

Lies. All of it, Lies.

_More than one good Witch or Wizard has fallen to the dark arts. That's why you need to watch out for your friends. Constant Vigilance should be your watchword. If you value your friendships you will make sure they do not go down the dark path. And they in turn will do the same for you._

Harry turned the page. He doubted that Voldemort or any of the deatheaters were 'good wizards gone bad' so this wasn't what he was looking for. He thumbed through some more of the book until he reached the appendix, which included a section on the short biographies of some of the most famous dark wizards and witches and what they had done. Some of them were quite interesting.

_Constance Umbridge (1345-1434) _

One of the Rare Witches that are known to Muggles, Constance was a well known Crone and healer in the wizard community in her native Germany, but secretly she had an addiction to magic increasing potions that required the body fat and blood of virgin children. She used a house transfigured into candy to lure unsuspecting muggle children to her where she then killed them.

She met her death at the hands of wizard Church hunter by the name of Mathias Thorne. The Muggles foolishly believe she was killed at the hands of several of the children she attempted to kill.

Fleur De Sang ( 1931-62)

The mysterious dark lady who called herself Fleur de Sang appeared quite suddenly in 1931 in France. She terrorized muggle French people until the takeover of France by Grindlewald's forces. After that event, she joined forces with the underground and proved equal dangerous to the forces of darkness.

_After the war was over, de Sang, appeared at the French ministry and begged for forgiveness, somehow having a change of heart and repenting of her dark deeds. She then apparated through the wards which had been employed to restrain her and simply disappeared from the face of the earth until 1962 when a body matching her description was found in muggle Paris. _

Santiago Cortez (1567-1640)

A master of Sadomagic's, Santiago learned how to tap into pain in order to fuel his Sorcery. He joined the Spanish Catholic Church and became one of its lead inquisitors. He kept his wand hidden within the rod of his office and performed 'Miracles' to fool muggles into the rightness of his actions.

Met his end at the hands of a Succubus he had conjured to tempt a noble he wished to 'relieve' of his land and possessions.

There were a lot more famous European dark wizards and witches in the appendix and they all were interesting. Not for the first time he wondered how history could actually be interesting and yet fall asleep every single in History of Magic. As he read the mini bios of the dark wizards, Harry was struck by the similarities between all of them. It was hatred and greed. Those two feelings seemed the defining characteristic of all of the dark wizards wherther they started out as a good guy, or happened to be evil through and through

That thought kind of scared Harry.

Hatred was so easy. He hated voldemort, he hated Sirus-before he knew who he was, he hated pettigrew, he hated the Dursley's, and sometimes he even hated Dumbledore.

A part of Harry believed that the final confrontation would come down to he and Voldemort. Nothing anyone had said lead to that feeling, it was simply was. He didn't want to but he believed it with every fiber of his being. And now Harry was wondering if he would have to tap into the magics of hatred if he wanted to win. Would he have to lose himself in dark magic if he wanted to beat the thing that killed his parents? Would he be swallowed up by hatred?

Would his hatred twist him like it twisted Tom Riddle? Would he turn on Hermione? On Ron and the Weasleys? Harry didn't think so, but still...he remembered the glee he felt when he unconsciously read Dudley's thoughts.

So Harry read. Long into the night, he read.

* * *

_Something called to him... _

It was the Kitchen...

Harry gathered the ingredients ...

The pot bubbled like a cauldron...

The stainless steel knife gleamed in the moonlight...

And his arm burned...

* * *

Harry woke up stiff the next morning. He groaned as he straightened his limbs and pulled himself to his feet from where he lay in the kitchen. His thoughts turned fuzzily to the actions of the night before as he tried to remember what happened. He stretched his arms and saw the fresh scab where he bled himself,

Harry could only vaguely remembered his actions from the night before. He remember gathering the potion ingredients, and wax. He remembered holding the knife although not the specific moment of cutting.

Stepping over to the table, he stared at his creation. Spread over a baking pan was a translucent blood red material that seemed to have the consistency of tofu.

_What is it?_ He thought, almost hysterically to himself. He made a complicated alchemical item in the middle of the night, apparently while sleepwalking. An item that not only was he sure he didn't know how to make, but he didn't even know what it was.

_What is happening to me?_

Running to his room, he gathered up his potion books for all four years and carried them downstairs. Pouring over the tomes he tried to remember what he had used and searched the indexes for that combination of ingredients.

Nothing. Whatever it was, it wasn't on the teaching curriculum of Hogwarts,

Harry wished he could owl Hermione, but Hedwig still hadn't come back. Deciding that he wasn't going to let whatever it was go to waste, he carefully cut the tofu-like material into a dozen brownie sized pieces and wrapped them in some of his aunts wax paper. Carrying the pieces up stairs, he put them in a compartment in his trunk. Maybe with the library at hogwarts, he would be able to identify the material.

The next few days passed without incident. He slept in late and ran in the mornings. In the afternoon he studied, outside if the weather was warm, inside when it cooled. At night, he watched the news alternately hoping there would be some information on death eater attacks, and praying that he would learn nothing.

Finally, it was early in the evening on the day the Dursley's were supposed to come home when the phone rang. Harry hesitated for a second before answering the phone. The Dursley's generally frowned on Harry answering the phone, but since they weren't home, he did.

" Boy."

His Uncle Vernon.

" Yes, Uncle Vernon."

" Everything alright there boy? No unnaturalness?"

Harry thought about the potion he made in the kitchen a few nights ago

_Uncle Vernon would go ballistic_

" No Uncle Vernon. Everything is just the way you left it."

" Good. Aunt Marge needs more help than we thought so we're going to be gone for another week or two. There's plenty of soup in the cupboard. Good bye Harry."

His uncle hung up the phone and Harry blinked in surprise.

_Wow. Two more weeks Dursley free_

Harry didn't even stop to consider the oddness of his uncle addressing him by name.

Harry went back to the television room and started to watch TV, luxuriating in the knowledge that he was free for at least another week, and he'd be able to do things the dursley's never let him do-like watch his own TV programs.

He let his mind drift and started to thumb through his schoolbooks as a random television program played in the background. Something about a group of twentysomethings and sex.

He was actually starting to get into the program when a streaking object slammed into the front window of the Dursleys. The glass shattered with a crash and Harry dove over the arm of the couch, employing his quiddich- honed reflexes.

Fumbling for his wand, he peaked over the edge of his couch and the sight caused his wand to clatter uselessly to the ground.

Hedwig had landed on the ground, a black envelop with a blood red seal gripped in her beak.

* * *


	3. Black Magic

Special thanks to my beta Jecca. Without her Fleur just wouldn't sound the same

Chapter 3: Black Magic  
  
Harry stared at his newly arrived bird. Black streaks he couldn't identify marred her white feathers and her normally gleaming eyes were dull and lifeless.  
  
She dropped the black envelope and with a flap of her wings, bounced away from Harry and the envelope.  
  
Hesitantly, Harry walked over to the letter and broke the crimson seal. He unfolded a piece of ebony parchment written in silver ink. The letters glimmered sinisterly in the starlit home of the Dursley's.  
  
_Dear Harry  
  
I just wanted to send you a note letting you know I'm thinking about you. All alone in your house, only a feeble blood magic spell to protect you from my Death Eaters. I must admit you present a tempting target.  
  
Yet I choose to do nothing about it. Yet.  
  
I want you to wallow in the knowledge that I can come for you at any time. I want you to stew in the understanding that before I destroy you, I will end the lives of your friends and family the way I ended your parents. You will die knowing that your line will end with you and your last moments will be alone.  
  
If Dumbledore were a better man he would tell you why I came after your family all those years ago. But I suspect he loves his intrigues too much to tell you that.  
  
Pity, that.  
_  
_Your owl was most uncooperative, so she had to be chastised. It is a shame she was so loyal to you. She was a magnificent animal.  
  
I will be in contact.  
  
Sincerely  
  
Voldemort, Lord of the Tower of Nightmares_  
  
Harry sat back and the letter dropped from his nerveless fingers.  
  
_What is Dumbledore not telling me?  
_  
Harry frowned. He knew that Dumbledore had his secrets. Things about Harry's past he didn't want Harry to know. Were they things Harry should know but didn't? He wanted to trust Dumbledore but there was a part of him -- the part that was a product of eleven years of living in a cupboard under the stairs by people who should have protected him -- that was angry about the secrets. Wasn't he old enough to know everything? After all he was the one who saw Voldemort come back, he was one who killed the Basilisk, and he was the one that protected the philosopher's stone.  
  
Harry grew angrier and angrier as he thought about the unfairness of everything. He was HARRY POTTER for Merlin's sake! And people just treated him like he was some runny-nosed kid who'd drop his wand at the first sight of a Death Eater.  
  
A tiny part of him whispered that Dumbledore was just doing his job. There was no way the Headmaster was going to let him do anything dangerous, no matter what he'd seen or done.  
  
That tiny part was ruthlessly crushed as Harry continued to wallow in anger and misery. He raged for an unknown length of time as he stalked around the room. Dark, invisible lashes of raw magic streaked from Harry's body and caused light bulbs and electronics to spark and burst. He only stopped when he saw Hedwig lying on the ground.  
  
Suddenly Harry remembered the words Voldemort had written.  
  
_She was a magnificent animal.  
_  
The magic faded from around Harry and he knelt next to his stricken bird. His green eyes took in her still form. The black streaks he noticed in Hedwig's feathers were dried, blackened blood. Huge gashes lay beneath the streaks of blood and Hedwig's breast was still. Harry hesitantly touched her feathers and noticed that she was cold.  
  
And her heart wasn't beating.  
  
Harry froze. Hedwig wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. A low growl building in his throat, he felt himself slip away as he had done on the other occasion. This time he didn't fight it. No, this time he embraced the darkness and let it flow through him. With a quivering hand he touched Hedwig on her breast and a red mist seemed to flow through her and seep into her body. Slowly Hedwig's chest began to rise and fall and her wings began to beat.  
  
Harry sat back and his eyes widened when he saw what he had done. He tried to pull the energy back, draw back into wherever it dwelled within him. The black energy seemed to crackle and boil and Harry fought it. He rode the energy like a tiger and fought the reigns of his runaway power.  
  
Hedwig meanwhile skipped around as she tested her wings. She let out an experimental hoot and cocked her head as she observed her master fight his own power.  
  
Harry could feel the magic out of control; he had opened a floodgate when he tapped into the darkness. The magic rushed out of his body like water passing a broken dam; he could feel it expanding, growing larger and taking on a life of its own. Red mist filled his relatives house and then rolled out like a fog bank. When it reached the borders of the Dursley's yard it met a blue field that pushed it back. When they met Harry gasped. Pain shot though his body as the red mist fed on him and redoubled its attack against the blue barrier.  
  
CRACK!  
  
The barrier collapsed and the mist flowed down the street. Tiny tendrils extended into most of the homes down Privet Drive. Harry could feel Things waking up, stretching long unused limbs.  
  
Harry fell to the ground, his magic leaking through his grasp. As darkness crowded his vision, all he could think was,_ I hope no one notices this.  
_

"-- different magic signature."  
  
"-- collapsed the wards."  
  
"-- never seen anything like that, Dumbledore. All those dead animals."  
  
"Indeed Sirius, that was a most disturbing sight." The voice of the Headmaster seemed weighed by fatigue and ancient burdens. "I've never seen raw necromancy like that. Certainly Harry never gave any indication that he had that particular power."  
  
"He bloody well shouldn't have! Necromancy is the blackest art. It's never been seen in the Potter bloodline. I think... did Harry just move?"  
  
Sirius Black, escaped convict and godfather to the Boy-Who-Lived moved to the bedside of his injured godson.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry slowly came back to consciousness and moaned softly. He struggled his way out of the darkness. As Harry awoke, his body feeling like a giant bruise. His limbs tingled with pain and it was all he could lay still and ache.  
  
"Sirius," he finally managed to croak. "Whaa...where am I?"  
  
The lean countenance of the convict broke into a smile. "My home. The House of Black." Sirius smiled and ruffled his godson's hair. "You gave us a right scare."  
  
Dumbledore smiled at Harry, clearly relieved that the teen was going to be all right. He quickly shifted to a frown. "Do you know what you did?"  
  
Harry frowned as the memories from before jumped to the forefront of his mind. "I'm...I'm not sure. Hedwig's been missing for weeks," and the two older wizards shot each other quick glances, "and she broke through the window at the Dursley's. Voldemort sent me a letter and --"  
  
Harry could feel Sirius' hands squeeze his shoulder. "What did the letter say Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly, seemingly unsurprised by the revelation.  
  
"Just threats about my family and friends. Said when I died I would be alone, same old rubbish you'd expect from him. Anyway, when I was finished reading it, I noticed Hedwig was dead. Something inside me kind of snapped and I did something that caused her to come back to life."  
  
Dumbledore's frowned deepened. "You did more than that. Your untrained necromancy reached out and shattered the protections around you home that I had placed there. You also animated nearly every dead animal in Little Whinging. Your magic took the impulse to keep Hedwig alive and kept doing it. It fed on your life force and nearly killed you." The old wizard made a steeple of his fingers. "Has anything else happened to you this summer?"  
  
Harry nodded his head and told the headmaster and Sirius about the incident with Dudley, leaving out the creation of his alchemy. "Do you know what's happening to me," he finally asked at the end of his story.  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "Well, what you did with Dudley is called Legilimency. It's the art of using magic to read thoughts and emotions. What is odd is that only a master Legilimens should be able to do what you did without a wand. As for Hedwig and the other pets, Harry, that is much more worrisome. That is something called Necromancy."  
  
Harry blinked. That didn't sound good. "What's a necromancer, Professor?"  
  
"It's a type of magic. A special ability only a few people are born with. It allows the wielder to use special spells that tap into the power of life and death because a necromancer's magic is entwined and melded with their life force. An ancient necromancer, who wanted his servants to be able to kill easier, since true necromancers are so rare, developed the killing curse from even more deadly killing necromancies. There is a whole body of magic that only necromancers can use. Much of it is dark magic, but not all. Many fine healers and exorcists have been necromancers of great skill." He shot a glance at Sirius, "Despite the reputation it has, Necromancy is not inherently dark. It is said that a truly great necromancer can give life to the dead."  
  
Harry gasped. "So my parents," he started to whisper.  
  
"NO!" Dumbledore shouted, startling Harry and his godfather. "No," he began again more softly when he saw their hope and fear, "there is no way to bring back your parents. Even the greatest necromancer can only revive people dead for a few moments."  
  
"Then I don't want it," Unconsciously clenching his fists, Harry asked, "Can you take it away...make me not a necromancer anymore."  
  
Dumbledore held out his hands. "I wouldn't even know how to go about doing that Harry. Experimenting with special magical abilities is not something you can just do. The side effects would be totally unpredictable. Besides," he added. "I don't know how you became on in the first place. If you had been born one, we would have known a long time ago." He got up. "We need to let you rest, so we'll talk more later." Dumbledore swept out of the room, Sirius following behind.  
  
"I'll be back later Harry, after dinner."  
  
Harry nodded and leaned back. The small amount of excitement had caused him to become almost totally exhausted.  
  
Then next few days passed by slowly for Harry. Alternately sleeping and waking, Harry obediently drank the potions Madam Pompfrey gave him and stayed in bed. Headmaster Dumbledore had sent for her when he recognized the signs of magical exhaustion.  
  
Harry spent what little time he was awake studying his surroundings. The room looked a lot like the Infirmary of Hogwarts except for it was significantly less inviting. Black bricks constructed the walls and even during the day, Black Manor seemed almost oppressive with its darkness and shadows. Harry could feel the ancient spells that went into constructing and warding the home. He didn't know where the home was located and he was far too weak to look out the single small window set into one side of the wall.  
  
Although almost no one came to visit him beside the Headmaster and Sirius, Harry could hear voices outside his room echoing down a hallway although none of them seemed familiar except for a silky murmur that could be Professor Snape.  
  
Perhaps the most surprising tenant of the Noble House of Black was Fleur Delacour. The stunning part-veela witch surprised him his first morning at Sirius's house.  
  
_Flashback_  
  
Harry opened his eyes and beheld a blurry angel. Reaching blindly with his hands, he found his glasses and put them on.  
  
A young woman with white blond hair the texture of spun silk watched him fumble with a smile on her face. A single perfect eyebrow arched above crystalline blue eyes.  
  
"'Ello 'Arry," Fleur said. "It iz very good to zee you."  
  
"Fleur?"  
  
She laughed at his dumbfounded expression and nodded. "It iz moi."  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"I am apprentice to Mademoiselle Pomfrey. I weesh to become a medi-witch. She iz one of zee best."  
  
"You want to be a medi-witch. Really?" Harry sounded incredulous.  
  
Her voice dropped several degrees. "Do you think I am only pretty face 'Arry?" As she bustled about, pouring a strengthening potion into a goblet, she continued. "Was I not chosen to reprezent my school in the Triwizard Competition? I have skills."  
  
Harry laughed. "Never said you weren't. You just caught me off guard. I didn't expect you to be my nurse."  
  
Fleur held out a foaming goblet. "Drink 'Arry and tell me how you feel afterwardz. I'm almost certain zat I got zee potion correct, but maybe not. I am only pretty face, you know?" As she spoke her eyes twinkled in a way that had nothing to do with being a veela.  
  
And everything to do with being a woman.  
  
_End Flashback_   
  
"Alright, Mister Potter," Madam Pomfrey huffed as she bustled. "You seem fine and about as good a health as I've seen you, aside from magic exhaustion that weakened you some. Bed rest for a few days and I don't want to hear about you casting so much as a light spell during that time." She turned to her assistant. "Fleur, dear, I want you to make sure Harry gets plenty of strengthening potions and rest." She looked back at her reluctant patient. "If he gives you any trouble just give him a dose of that Veela charm of yours."  
  
Harry grumbled, "I don't need any bed rest."  
  
"Don't complain," Sirius called out from where he leaned against doorway of Harry's room. "Do you know how many people would kill for their very own Veela nurse?" He smiled. "Enjoy it, I would. And so would your dad."  
  
"'Arry will not give me any troublez, Will you 'Arry?" Fleur turned a thousand-watt smile on the boy who lived.  
  
"Er... no."  
  
Fleur spent the next several days taking care of Harry. She brought him his meals and made his potions. She helped him do a little walking around the room. Mostly she just kept him company so he wouldn't go stock-raving mad.  
  
Harry learned that the Fleur he knew at the Triwizard tournament was only the tip of the very large iceberg that was Fleur Delacour.  
  
Her family was quite wealthy. Her father Anton Delacour was the most well- known wizarding wine maker in all of France. He owned huge fields of wine grapes in some of the best wine growing land around Europe and America. He grew grapes to make Muggle wines as well as several varieties of wizarding grapes for special magical wine recipes. Some of the most well-known potion makers in France worked from his winemaking business and he was quite wealthy in both the wizarding and muggle worlds thanks to the business he did in both of them.  
  
Her mother, Dominique Delacour was a wizarding fashion designer and former model. Being half veela the aging process was quite kind to her and she still did some modeling work from time to time, always a big splash in the society pages.  
  
Little Gabrielle Delacour was the middle child of the Delacour family. She was a bright and energetic child who loved to draw and could perform simple animations wandlessly. The family expected that she would become quite the skilled wizard painter in the future.  
  
The youngest of the Delacour clan was the only male child and thus did not share in the veela nature of the women in the family. Pierre Delacour was barely three years old, but with his sapphire-hued eyes, Fleur knew that he would still be a heartbreaker one day.  
  
As for Fleur herself, she talked about some of the trips abroad she has gone on. Her father travels a great deal and Fleur developed quite the taste for traveling herself. She told Harry about her trips to America and her father's friend the Secretary of Magic, who ran the US magical community on behalf of the President of the United States.  
  
Over several days, Harry watched Fleur talk and marveled at her. He watched the way her eyes lit up when she described her father and his beautiful wineries. He watched, as spots of blush appeared on her pale cheeks when she talked about a few of the tricks she played on overly aggressive suitors. He watched her smile when she talked about her little brother or her artistic sister. He thought he could watch her forever.  
  
Harry realized he had somehow fallen for Fleur. Fallen for her hard.  
  
Which depressed him. He realized that a scrawny, underfed, undersized fifteen year old had no chance with an older and very beautiful woman. Even if he was Harry Potter. He longed for a travel story of his own to tell. He longed to tell Fleur about a trip to distant lands and have her hanging on his every word while he painted a picture with his words. He longed to be someone who had really done something with his life and not been a shut-in for the better part of his existence.  
  
But he wasn't that person.  
  
Oh, he had stories all right. Stories about killing and death. Stories about betrayal and fear, about rivalries and pain. He didn't want to tell Fleur those stories. Those were personal, they shouldn't be told like a campfire tales just to impress a pretty girl. Besides, he wanted to share a fun story, a beautiful story that he could share, that could be theirs and theirs alone.  
  
But he didn't have any of those stories.

Fleur was not Harry's only visitor. Sirius spent huge chunks of the day with Harry, often just sitting with him. Sometimes he shared a story or two about Harry's parents when they had gone to Hogwarts. Other times he just listened with Harry as Fleur talked about things. Whenever Harry tried to steer the conversation to current events, Sirius steered it way with a well-placed question to Fleur.  
  
Sirius noticed Harry's attraction right away and often gave Harry a nudge or a wink when Fleur was busy. Things that in no way helped Harry's disposition towards either Fleur or his enforced convalescence. Sirius was also free with excuses that left Harry alone with his beautiful nurse for extensive periods of time.

"So what do you think about Black Manor," Sirius asked a few days later.  
  
Harry looked around. "Well this room is nice," he quipped. "Dunno about the rest of the place though."  
  
"Well Fleur and Poppy think you should be up in another day or so. The great weakness of a necromancer is that their powers link their magic and their life force together. Your uncontrolled power burst tapped into your life energy so she's been replenishing it."  
  
"I'll be glad when I can get out of bed," Harry muttered. Not the greatest patient under any circumstances, the fact he really needed the bed rest was driving him mad.  
  
"When you're a little better I'll give you the run down of the place. You'll love the dueling chamber." Sirius said excitedly, "And the library is something to see. I think there might even be a book or two on necromancy."  
  
"Cool," Harry said unexcitedly. Sirius looked at Harry and stopped smiling.  
  
"What's wrong?" Sirius asked worriedly.  
  
Harry looked away. "I've been cooped up here for three days and no one is telling me anything. What happened to my relative's house? Were they mad? Did you fix the damage that I did? What's Voldemort been up too? Have there been any deaths. Why didn't anyone write to me at the beginning of summer?" The questions spilled out of Harry's mouth in a confused torrent. There were so many questions that he could hardly articulate all of them.  
  
Sirius watched Harry as he talked. The flash of his eyes and the slight flush of his pale skin as the frustration of his position became a nearly palpable force around him. So like his mother, Lily.  
  
"Everyone says look like your father," he began softly, "but right now, this second, you are your mother's son."  
  
The rage and frustration fell away from Harry and he blinked in surprise.  
  
"Lots of things have happened Harry, and you can't know all of them, but..."  
  
"Why not, Sirius," Harry shouted. "I've seen way more than most grown-up wizards. I had all the Unforgivables used on me and I saw Voldemort come back. I deserve to know!"  
  
"Yes you do Harry," came a voice from the doorway. "You deserve to know as much as you can handle, which is a great deal more than many adult wizards. But still not everything."  
  
Dumbledore's walked into the room, a small cloth bag clutched in his hands. He made his way to Harry's bed. "You can get out of bed tomorrow. Miss Delacour has given her permission. She also wanted me to pass on her compliments on your enthusiasm for following her directions. If it is true that she was able to get even you to obey her instructions she may prove to be a most gifted healer." His eyes twinkled as he spoke. With a swish of his wand he moved a chair to Harry's bedside and sat down.  
  
"Never forget Harry, that you are a young wizard. Do not be eager to shoulder the burdens of adults. There is more than enough time for that in the future. That having been said, we have much to discuss, beginning with some unpleasant news."  
  
The headmaster and Sirius exchanged looks and Sirius took up the explanation. "Harry, your aunt, uncle, and cousin were all killed the day you had your...episode," Sirius explained softly. It looks like they were killed by Death Eaters."  
  
"Bu-but Uncle Vernon called me that afternoon," Harry said softly.  
  
The two adults exchanged glances. "We think that the Death Eaters used polyjuice potions to disguise themselves as your relatives. With your blood protection gone and your guard down, you would have proved easy to capture." Sirius said finally.  
  
Harry's mind rolled as he thought about his relatives and their death. They had hated him and treated him horribly, but they were family. Maybe the last blood that was his in the world until he had a family of his own.  
  
"What are you feeling Harry?" Dumbledore asked. The old headmaster fixed his blue gaze on the youth. Harry shivered as he contemplated how much power those twinkling eyes hid.  
  
Harry thought for a second. What was he feeling? The Dursley's were the last of his blood. They were the last bit of his mum that he had left. As he thought some more his scar started to burn and he thought of all the times they had starved him, belittled his family and his birthright. He remembered hollow stomachs and slaps to the face. He remembered bars on his windows.  
  
"What am I feeling," he repeated in a dark voice. "I'm feeling glad that they're dead. Dead at the hands of people who hated them. I hope they were scared in their last moments. I hope they regretted everything they ever did to me."  
  
Sirius blinked and leaned forward. "You don't mean that Harry."  
  
"I do." Harry spat. "I'M GLAD THEY'RE DEAD!"  
  
Suddenly Dumbledore stepped forward and shook Harry by the shoulders. He roared in a great voice that seemed larger than his ancient frame, but what he was saying, Harry could not tell.  
  
Harry stopped ranting and shook his head. He looked between Sirius and Dumbledore. "What happened?"  
  
"I do not know." Dumbledore looked speculative. "I must consult some books and perhaps a few paintings, but I know unnatural emotions when I see them."  
  
"So if my guardians are dead, What is going to happen to me now?" Harry asked softly, as if his outburst hadn't taken place.  
  
Dumbledore smiled lightly. "While you cannot stay with Sirius officially, I have petitioned to become your legal guardian. Since I am far to busy to have you around all the time," his eyes started to twinkle mischievously, "You will simply have to stay here with your godfather."  
  
Sirus smiled hopefully at Harry. Wordlessly Harry gave his godfather a one- armed hug. "There's no one I would rather stay with."  
  
Dumbledore let the two have their moment together before he coughed slightly. "I am afraid that I have some further news." He opened the small cloth bag and pulled out a sphere that shined with a bright gray light. "This is an aura sphere. I used it to sample your magic while you were sleeping the other day. I consulted with several colleagues who knew more about necromancers than I, and together we analyzed your magic Harry."  
  
"Well," Harry added impatiently. "What did you find out?"  
  
"Aura spheres were originally designed to study people with unusual magic signatures. They are rarely used anymore because the spells and training necessary are long and tedious. Still," he added, "it can be a useful tool in the proper circumstances. I have been able to figure out that you are not a natural necromancer, Harry." He pulled out a second Aura sphere, this time it glowed with black light. "This is from a necromancer who allowed his aura to be recorded several centuries ago. As you can see, your auras are very different. Natural necromancers have black auras signifying their strong connection to death. Most wizards have rainbow hued auras, with differing bands of thickness depending on the strength of their abilities at the Wizarding arts."  
  
"Well my aura is gray. What does that mean professor?" Harry looked to Sirius, and his godfather squeezed his hand comfortingly.  
  
"It means," Dumbledore, said heavily, "Harry that your normal aura was white. The introduction of a necromancer's aura has shaded it. Made it turn gray. White aura's are very rare, Harry. Only someone with exceptional levels of magical ability in every field has a white aura. I myself am one of the few wizards in England to have a white aura. Only a wizard with a white aura can study to become an archmage."  
  
"Archmage?"  
  
"An archmage is simply a term used to describe wizards who delve deeply into the most esoteric parts of magic. While most wizards are content to learn the spells and charms that allow them to get by day to day, archmages mine the depths of magic and learn how to combine different arts into a whole that is greater. For example the Animagus transformation was discovered by a Archmage who spent his life in the far reaches of self transfiguration." He smiled. "But that is not important right now. What is important is that your aura changed."  
  
"What caused it to change?" Sirius asked tightly. "Aura's don't just shift. They're virtually immutable."  
  
"I can put forth a theory, but it is by no means certain," Dumbledore cautioned. "When Voldemort used Harry's blood to make his new body, he strengthened the connection that already existed between the two of them. The curse scar, the blood magic, and the final ingredient-  
  
"Priori Incantatem," Harry whispered.  
  
Dumbledore nodded silently.  
  
The linked wand effect that connected the brother wands of Voldemort and Harry. The golden cage that revealed the past victims of the Dark Lord, including Harry's parents and Cedric Diggory. It had saved Harry's life and given him a glimpse of his parents.  
  
"It seems that when your wands linked, his magic flowed down the connection and into you. The wand acted like a bridge and a set of scales. There was more magic and knowledge on Voldemort's side because he is more powerful than you. The wands attempted to equalize both your magic's by giving you some of his power. That power seemed to be his necromantic abilities and skill at legilimency. I would think that had you maintained the connection you would have drained more power from him." Dumbledore met Harry's gaze. "This is bad Harry. Magic is very tied up in emotion and the mind. More so in Voldemort than in most others because of the transformations he has performed on himself. If you have some of his powers, you could develop some...aberrations in your behavior. Based on what you've told us and your outburst, Harry, its already starting. Combine that with your dreams and your psyche is going to be under tremendous strain this year."  
  
Harry's mind, for what seemed like the one-billionth time that day, spiraled out of control. "So what am I going to do," he spat, "wait till I go mad?"  
  
"No Harry." The old headmaster stated calmly. "I've sent Remus for aid from people who understand your condition and I am going to teach you Occlumancy." At Harry's questioning glance Dumbledore clarified. "It's a mental art that will allow you to master your mind and emotions. Hopefully, it will allow you to control your dark impulses -"  
  
"But just for a while right?" Sirius asked. "Just until you can take the black magic out of Harry, right?" Dumbledore was silent. "Right?"  
  
"You can't, can you." Harry whispered. "You can't take it out of me."  
  
"I can't," Dumbledore said. "If I were to try, you'd end up a squib. Completely without power."  
  
"No, Harry. I'm afraid you're going to live with Voldemort's power inside you."


	4. On Vampires and the Order of the Phoenix

Again I want to thank my beta Jecca for all of her hard work. And those of you with health conditions may want to aviod this part. It contains Percy/Tonks shippiness.

You have been warned :)

Chapter 4: On Vampires and the Order of the Phoenix  
  
Remus Lupin hated vampires.  
  
Absolutely hated them. Every time he got near a true vampire it was all he could do to keep the wolf from rendering them limb from limb. He didn't know what it was exactly but there was something about vampires that simply drove all werewolves crazy.  
  
So why did Dumbledore send him here?  
  
He admitted to himself that he was probably the best person available to go to the vampires. Tonks and Moody were out of the question. Tonks was so clumsy she might accidentally stake a vampire and if Moody staked one...well it wouldn't be an accident. Kingsley couldn't go since he was an official of the ministry and Arabella refused to have anything to do with Homo Sapiens Nocturnis because of her brother.  
  
Which left Remus.  
  
Remus was one of the few wizards that had a personal relationship with the current vampire ruler. Of course that personal relationship was based on mutual antipathy, so the werewolf wasn't holding out much hope that he was going to get the help they wanted.  
  
Of course it was for Harry, so Remus put aside his rather irrational dislike of vampires and simply waited for the Night King to receive his audience. Remus knew that there was little chance of the current Night King agreeing to help him but he had to try.  
  
So Remus sat on the cold stone bench that was the receiving area for the audience hall of the vampire king for the British Isles. He sat and he waited for his turn to make a plea.

Harry woke up early the next day, having spent most of the night tossing and turning, plagued by nightmares where he tortured his friends and shifted back and forth between his own features and the pale snake-like face of Voldemort.  
  
Getting up shirtless, Harry made his way to his large mirror stand and stared at himself. He noticed the dark smudges beneath his eyes and the dullness that was located in them. He looked at his body and winced at how emaciated he had become. Even a few days of forced convalesce had melted away what little fat there was on his body leaving him skin and bones. He rubbed his stomach and felt his ribs. He could practically count them.  
  
He carefully stared at his green eyes, vainly trying to divine what exactly lay inside of him. The thought of any part of Voldemort's power being inside him sickened him. Sickened and terrified him. He shivered as he visualized a dark snake of black magic coiling within, waiting for...  
  
Waiting for what? What would set him off and unleash dark magic? Could it be his friends? What about his enemies? While he hated Draco Malfoy, he had no desire to set loose unrestrained necromantic power against the Slytherin boy. Harry rubbed his face, and not for the first time wished to be anyone else other than Harry Potter.  
  
That was the way Sirius found him a few moments later.  
  
"You look like hell, you know that?"  
  
Although his tone was even and without judgment Harry could tell that his godfather was worried about him.  
  
"I wanted to wake you and see if you were ready to see the house and meet some of the Order?" Sirius asked as he watched Harry pull on some jeans and a tee-shirt.  
  
"Sure," Harry grinned. "After all I am going to be living here."  
  
Sirius clapped him on the shoulder and took him out of the room. They entered a darkened corridor and Sirius motioned to Harry which direction he should go in.  
  
"So what's been going on Sirius?'  
  
"Lots, and I'll tell you all about it," he added when he noticed Harry was about to protest, "After you meet some members of the Order of the Phoenix. They're eager to meet you."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Lets see, it's about breakfast, so they'll be in the kitchen," Sirius mused. He took Harry downstairs and down a second corridor. Harry lost track of the number of rooms that he passed. He noticed the general disrepair of the home and remarked on it to Sirius.  
  
"My family hasn't lived here in ages. Most of my family are either dead, married to another pureblood and live on a different estate like Cissy, or," he snorted, "Locked up in Azkaban, like dear cousin Bella. I would have lived here if I hadn't been thrown into Azkaban. Dumbledore needed a place for the Order to meet and I volunteered my home. No wizard would think of the Black family as a gathering place for people against Voldemort. Out of character for the Blacks, you know." He finished the statement in a tone of such bitterness that Harry stayed quiet until Sirius paused at one door. "Here we are, the kitchen of Black Manor."  
  
Harry opened the door and saw several people sitting around a table eating. One he recognized right away as Alastor Moody. The grizzled Auror sat drinking from his hip flask while his magical eye roamed about looking suspiciously at the rest of the table.  
  
"Potter." He grumbled before taking another long swig of his drink.  
  
The others at the table got up and Harry looked at them not really knowing what to say. Sirius began making introductions. "This is Kingsley Shacklebolt," and he motioned to one of the most impressive looking men Harry had ever seen. He was a large, powerfully built black man, with dreadlocks that hung past his shoulders. He radiated magical power and had a commanding presence. He greatly resembled a muggle musician that Dudley liked named Bob Marley. "Kingsley is an Auror Captain for the ministry."  
  
"Good to meet you Harry." Kingsley's deep and resonant voice matched his dignified mien perfectly.  
  
Next Sirius motioned to a very pretty if odd-looking young woman. She had short bubblegum pink hair and yellow eyes. Her clothes were equally as odd. She wore muggle jeans and trainers topped with a ripped white tee- shirt. She looked less like a member of a super secret order of wizards and more like a rock groupie. She gave Harry a slight headache just from looking at her. When she got to her feet to greet Harry she stumbled a little. The young woman sent an angry look at the furniture that betrayed her. "And this is Nymphadora Tonks and-  
  
"Just Tonks," she interrupted. She smiled at Harry. "Wotcher Harry."  
  
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Cousin Tonks is a Junior 2nd Class Auror." When Tonks narrowed her eyes at Sirus, he amended, "Which is nothing to sneeze at. Tonks was the last Hogwarts student accepted into the Ministry Auror program. She is plenty fast on the draw." He snorted, "Just don't expect her to sneak up on anything."  
  
"Want some breakfast Harry?" Tonks asked kindly. When Harry nodded she tripped from her seat and fixed him a plate of bacon, eggs and muffins. She dropped the platter piled high with food in front of the Boy-Who-Lived.  
  
"So, are you going to tell me what's happened in the wizarding world since I left," Harry asked around his mouthful of food.  
  
"Dumbledore doesn't want him to know much," Kingsley cautioned. He looked around the table at the others. Tonks nodded in agreement while Moody just snorted and stayed silent. Harry grew a little red in embarrassment from being so dismissed out of hand. He was about to say something when Sirius butted in.  
  
"He deserves to know the basics at least. He's earned it." Sirius turned to Harry. "When you reported what you saw to Dumbledore he called the Order of the Phoenix back into action. We were a secret society that was formed during Voldemort's first reign of terror. James and Lily joined up because he was after them from the beginning and they wanted to help to bring him down."  
  
Kingsley jumped in. "The Order has the experience when it comes to Death Eaters and we have Dumbledore to lead us. We're better equipped to handle this than the Ministry which can't even agree on whether or not he is back." The table of aurors snorted in derision.  
  
"I saw one of the Daily Prophets," Harry said. "What does the public believe?"  
  
Tonks laughed. "I saw some of those letters Harry." She turned to the others, "Our little Harry has quite the devoted fans. I think I saw some knickers in the heap."  
  
"Three pairs of thongs," Harry mumbled, his face red with embarrassment at the table's amusement. Sirius clapped a hand to his back and gave a little wink. "How did you even know about those," he asked swiftly changing the subject.  
  
This time it was Tonks who looked a little embarrassed. "After your relatives...umm...died," she whispered, "You were in no condition to be bothered by the muggle officials so I stepped in and took your place."  
  
"How."  
  
Even as Harry asked the question he got his answer. The young Auror's hair darkened and curled while her eyes turned green and a lightning bolt shaped scar traced itself on her forehead. Her body shrunk and became distinctly more boyish. In a few moments Tonks was gone and a duplicate of Harry stood in her place.  
  
TonksHarry grinned. "A bit like this."  
  
Harry saw that no one else was surprised at the transformation and Tonks saw his confusion. "I'm a metamorphmagus," she clarified. "That means I can change my appearance. It's like self transfiguration only I don't need a spell or wand and the changes last as long as I want."  
  
"Brilliant."  
  
Sirius cleared his throat. "Getting back to your original question. The public doesn't want to believe Voldemort is back. They want to believe that they're still safe and their kids are safe."  
  
"But that's stupid," Harry shouted. "Why would I make up a story like that? He killed my parents. Why would I make up a story about his return?"  
  
"The war was bad, Harry. The lists of the dead in the Prophet seemed like they would never end. People lived in fear of seeing the Dark Marks that hung in the half dozen locations they knew would have them every night. Whole families wiped out. People don't want to relive that and I don't blame them." Kingsley said quietly. "So Fudge has the Prophet write articles condemning you and Dumbledore and the people are happy. It doesn't help that Lucius Malfoy and other Death Eaters inside the ministry are spreading around galleons and whispering in the minister's ear."  
  
"Idiots all of them," Moody muttered to no one in particular. The reclusive auror slammed his fist on the table. "Constant vigilance! Can't hide your head in the sand and expect the bad people to just go away," he mocked.  
  
"Could Fudge be under the Imperious Curse?" Harry asked.  
  
Kingsley shook his head. "Unlikely. There are ways to detect people under long-term exposure to the Imperious Curse and most high ranking ministry officials are regularly checked for signs."  
  
"He's just an idiot," Sirius contributed. "Doesn't matter though. The order has a several important ministry officials as members and many more deeply respect Dumbledore." Sirius grinned. "He's been the Headmaster of Hogwarts for more than a whole generation of students and people instinctively defer to him."  
  
"Like who," Harry questioned.  
  
"Arthur Weasley, for one and - "  
  
"Me for another," a familiar voice said from the doorway.

The Audience Hall of the Night King of all Britannia was an amphitheater located deep underground. It was large enough to fit all of the vampires on the British Isles if it had to, and it served as the main stronghold for vampires during those parts of their history when the world turned on them. Warded with the strongest blood magic's vampires were capable of mustering, even the Dark Lord himself would think twice before storming the place. That was if he could even find it.  
  
Inside the amphitheater were great statues of the legendary founders of the vampire race and painting of prominent vampires hung all over. Vampires loved to commission paintings of themselves so they could know how they looked because they did not cast reflections. A giant throne of fused bone was set upon a great dais at the far end of the hall and allowed the king the look down upon his inferiors.  
  
Remus Lupin took it all in as he made his way to the throne. He avoided looking up in a feeble and unsuccessful attempt to forget that there were thousands of pounds of rock above his head. Instead he focused on the end of his trip.  
  
The King lay sprawled upon his throne, limbs carelessly dangling. He looked quite young aside from jets of silver that streaked hair the color of fresh blood, although Remus knew that meant little. Age was kind to vampires and they were capable of living for many centuries before succumbing to its ravages.  
  
Four Blood Guards stood at attention and wore the traditional black dragon hide armor of their holy order. An older vampire wearing advisors robes stood by his king's side.  
  
As Remus reached the throne the King dropped his studiously bored expression and leaned forward on his throne. A low growl built in Remus' throat as his inner wolf reacted to the proximity of another predator -- and an alpha to boot.  
  
"Remus Lupin," the king breathed softly. His nostrils flared and his lean features took on a more feral cast. His eyes deepened to red and needle- like fangs slowly extended. "It has been a great deal of time. You look...old."  
  
"And you look the same, Damien."  
  
"I do, do I not?" Damien Nightshade, King of Vampires smiled. "So... what can we do for you?"  
  
Remus took a breath. This was going to be a difficult sell. The Vampires had little love for the Wizarding World and the Ministry.  
  
"Dumbledore needs your help. A true necromancer has awakened and he needs training. He has already had one episode and caused quite a crisis in the muggle world. Only you can train him. Vampire magic is quite similar to necromancy."  
  
The king tapped a long finger against his chin. A large garnet ring decorated the finger and caused a play of reddish light to reflect around the room.  
  
"Do you know why this hall is underground Remus?" Even as the ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was nodding his head, Damien continued. "It's because my people have been persecuted for centuries by you wizards and your obsession with purity and we needed a place to flee to."  
  
He laughed derisively, "Bah, so concerned with the quality of your blood. Muggle or Pure, it all tastes the same." He shook his head. "I think not Remus. Your kind has chased mine for too long with stake, wand, and fire. Deal with your death caller on your own. I will not help."  
  
"No!"  
  
Remus stepped forward to protest more strongly and the king motioned to a pair of his Blood Guards. In a flash they had grabbed the werewolf by the arms and were preparing to forcibly removing him from the room.  
  
"Wait! The necromancer...It's Harry. Harry Potter!"  
  
Damien made a surprised motion to the guards and they let him go.  
  
"Your golden boy is the new necromancer? The son of James and the harlot... a death caller!" Damien threw back his head a let loose a laugh that echoed through the chamber. "That is rich."  
  
Mastering himself he continued. "Very well, we will train young Harry. On one condition."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
Remus was dreading the answer because he had a sinking feeling he knew what the King was going to demand.  
  
"Harry Potter will fulfill his family's obligation," the king spat. "He will complete the pact his father should have honored."

"PERCY!"  
  
"Yes, Harry, me. I might, as my brothers say, have a wand up my bum, but I'm still a Gryffindor. And my position as Assistant to the Minister of Magic gives me unique access to information."  
  
The third eldest Weasley walked into the kitchen carrying a bundle of papers. He looked older than he had when Harry had seen him last. There were deep circles under his eyes and he looked like he had lost weight. Overall, he just looked worn.  
  
"I brought these. I think Dumbledore needs to take a look at them." He looked around. "So you're bringing Harry in on the Order? Are you sure that's wise."  
  
"Dumbledore allowed some information Perce, its not like he's going to become a member." Tonks told the bureaucrat.  
  
"But I want to be," Harry pleaded.  
  
"Sorry Harry, its only open to wizards who are of age. You need to finish school first." Sirius replied apologetically. "You haven't even taken your OWLs yet."  
  
Percy blinked tiredly and yawed. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I've been up all night getting the paperwork together."  
  
"Then get some rest... and don't be so daft." Tonks chided him playfully.  
  
"I think I shall." He yawned again. "Good day gentlemen. Tonks." He nodded to each in turn.  
  
Tonks screwed up her face in mock gravity. "Weatherby," she returned in her best Fudge impersonation.  
  
Percy then did something that Harry was firmly convinced was impossible for that particular Weasley to do. He cracked a smile and even threw a little wink at Tonks, who blushed slightly.  
  
"Oh Harry," Percy added. "Ron wishes he could be here but mother felt it best that she take he, Ginny, and the twins to visit Charlie in Romania for a while. They should be back for the last month or so of vacation and for your birthday."  
  
"Thanks." Harry said. That was all he could say. He was in shock. This was not the same young man he went to school with for three years. This Percy was more relaxed despite his fatigue. There was an ease about him that had not been there before. As Harry looked between the weary bureaucrat and the pink-haired auror and had a sneaking suspicion about what had happened to change him.  
  
Percy just nodded in acknowledgement of Harry and left stifling a yawn.  
  
"What has Voldemort been up to," Harry asked casually when Percy left. Inwardly he groaned when he saw Tonks and Kingsley wince at the name. They couldn't even name the Dark Lord but he was the one that was too young to join the order.  
  
"Nothing actually," Sirius admitted. "That's what's making it so easy for Fudge to discredit you and Dumbledore. The old man thought Voldemort was just biding his time, making plans but after you..."  
  
"...Its more likely that he is just not at full strength yet." Kingsley finished. "We are flying blind. The sort of connection that you and You- Know-Who enjoy has simply never existed before. No one knows what the effects would or could be and how long Voldemort will be weakened if he is weakened at all."  
  
They all sat in silence for a while until Sirius suddenly stood up, his chair scraping across the ground.  
  
"Come on Harry, enough with the moping, this is your first day out of bed. I'm going to give you a tour of the house and then let's get your broom and go flying."  
  
"You have my stuff? Everything?"  
  
"I went and got it for you," Tonks said. "Broom, cloak, all of it is up in your room."  
  
"Which room is mine," Harry asked excitedly.  
  
Sirius motioned for Harry to take the lead and the two of them took off down the hall. The three left in the kitchen smiled at each other as they heard the high laughter of a boy who too rarely got to act the child.

Harry couldn't believe the room Sirius indicated was his. His room at the Dursley's had barely qualified as a room instead of a closet but this room was a different animal entirely.  
  
The room was spacious to say the least. Easily larger than the master bedroom of the Dursley's, Harry's new bedroom was made of the same stone as the rest of the house. A door on the left side of the room led into a private bathroom with a spacious tub and dark marble sink.  
  
Inside the room all of the furniture was constructed of dark cherry wood. A huge desk was on one side of the room and a stiff backed chair sat in front of it.  
  
Harry had a huge vanity table with a high mirror. A riot of things from Harry's trunk sat on the vanity waiting for him to organize it.  
  
He had a thick leather chair and foot stool in his room. When Harry tried it he marveled at its softness and lushness. Sirius mentioned some charms that aided in comfort were permanently imbued in the chair.  
  
The most glorious thing in the room though was Harry's bed. A great handcrafted four poster bed with a canopy dominated the room. Hanging from the canopy were silken drapes that hid the mattress and pillows. Harry drew back the curtains and tested the bed. Never had he slept on anything so soft in his life.  
  
One thing though broke Harry's heart. In a far corner of his room was Hedwig's cage, open and abandoned. A few of her pellets and downy feathers decorated the bottom of her cage.  
  
"Sirius," Harry asked softly. "What happened to Hedwig?" Harry knew that his owl had died but no one bothered to really explain what had happened.  
  
"Your owl died at the hands of Voldemort, Harry." Sirius began. "He killed her and used necromancy to reanimate her to deliver his message. What you did was spontaneous untrained necromancy. You used you life force to reanimate her but then your powers escaped your control and went on to animate most of the dead animals in Little Whinging. When the Order got there and Dumbledore dispelled your powers, all of the animals went back to their rest --including Hedwig."  
  
"Oh." Harry faced away from Sirius and the older man could see him shake a little. Finally he turned around and Sirius could see unshed tears in his eyes. "Thank you Sirius."  
  
Sirius hugged his godson. "You don't have to thank me Harry. This is the room, the home you should have had the whole time. In your third year when I asked you to live with me, I was thinking about this room."  
  
Harry just hugged Sirius for a moment longer before breaking away. He walked to his vanity and grabbed his broom. Wiping his eyes he smiled and said in a low tone. "No more namby-pamby stuff."  
  
"Let's fly."

Harry performed yet another high-speed turn on his Firebolt as he raced high above the dark walls of Black Manor.  
  
One of the more ancient families in the Wizarding World, Black Manor was layered with protection spells, dark and light alike that befitted the ancestral manor of a proud pureblood family.  
  
Crafted of black stone, vines and moss filled cracks and crevices in the ancient home, yet powerful construction enchantments ensured that they did not cause the house to degrade or weaken. Behind the luxurious home, a pool made of black tiles and heated to tropical temperatures thanks the permanent heating charms, sat quite invitingly waiting for Harry when he finished flying.  
  
Four stories high, black manor was nestled in hills outside of London and was many miles away from any muggle houses. The Blacks owned all of the land for miles surrounding Black manor. That freed Harry to indulge his love of flying without fear of being seen.  
  
Sirius shaded his eyes and watched his godson laugh with glee and perform a flawless Wronski Feint and then spiral into the heavens. He really was the best flier Sirius had ever seen. James had been good flier and an excellent Chaser, but he simply could not compare to the ariel ballet that was Harry on a broomstick.  
  
Sirius had flown some with Harry before begging off, citing age as reason to leave off flying. He found some shade beneath a tree and just sat and watched Harry.  
  
"'E iz quite skilled, non?"  
  
Sirius started and turned to find that Fleur had snuck up on him. As he always did when he saw the part veela up close, he marveled at her beauty. Fleur was simply the most stunning young woman Sirius had ever seen. Shaking his head to break her unconscious enchantment, he spoke.  
  
"He is definitely that."  
  
"I remember when I watched him fly against zee 'orntail in the First Task." Fleur said. "Before that I thought, 'Here iz this little boy. How can 'e 'ope to compete against us experienced wizards?' And then 'e went and surprised us!" She chuckled. "After that, I never thought him as a boy... but as a competitor."  
  
Sirius laughed in agreement. "Harry is far more than what meets the eye." He rubbed his jaw ruefully. "When we first met he managed to drop me with one punch! There I was. The legendary Sirius Black, Death Eater extraordinaire and he punched me! Definitely his father's son."  
  
The two of them dropped into comfortable silence and they watched Harry fly.  
  
"'E loves to fly," Fleur murmured as her stunning eyes followed Harry on his path. "In zee air he flies faster than his problems."  
  
Sirius stared at Fleur. She returned the look with a pointed stare of her own.  
  
"What iz it with men," she said. "Iz it so rare to be pretty and smart?"  
  
"Touché!" Sirius let out a sharp laugh. "Lily would have loved you."  
  
"'Arry's mother, Lily?"  
  
Sirius nodded silently.  
  
Fleur was silent for a moment. "I studied several charms she invented at Beauxbatons. They were complex and beautiful spells. I zink I would 'ave like to 'ave meet her."  
  
"So would Harry."  
  
"What was she like?" Fleur asked.  
  
Sirius thought for a moment. "You know what's funny," he said slowly. "I don't think Harry has ever asked about his mother. About his father sure, but not her." He shook his head free from the mental cobwebs. "Anyway, Lily. She was the best charms student Flitwick every taught. She was fast with a wand and faster with her tongue. She had an annoying habit of being good at just about everything but Quidditch... and I half think that's only because she didn't like the sport.  
  
"James was smitten with her from the beginning but she would have nothing to do with him until our sixth year. Even stopped us a couple of times from going to far in our pranks with Snape.  
  
"Lily was... fire, passion, and a truly compelling soul in a world that needs more people like that. She was thoughtful and fair, but had a vicious streak a mile long. I'd rather yank on a dragons tail than make Lily mad. I remember this one time I turned her hair green with potion I snuck in her pumpkin juice and she..." Sirius trailed off.  
  
He had started to reminisce smiling but the smile disappeared when the memories started to crash down around him. He remembered a more innocent time, before dark lords and murdered friends. Before betrayal and before twelve years of hell on earth. His eyes welled with tears that remained trapped in his eyes.  
  
"...I think we were all in love with her a little," he said finally. "She was an easy person to love."  
  
"I don't mean to be rude Fleur," Sirius said thickly, "But I need to be alone for a while."  
  
"Of course," Fleur said politely. "I didn't mean to upset you."  
  
Sirius just nodded, too drained to talk.  
  
Fleur started to walk away but stopped after a few steps. She turned around and spoke softly.  
  
"She sounds very much like 'Arry," Fleur said. " 'Arry is also a... how you say... compelling soul." The next line was said so softly Sirus wasn't sure he even heard it.  
  
"And I zink also quite easy to love."


	5. Dueling with Veelas

First of all I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far. you all help a lot to keep writing.

secondly I want to once again thank Jecca, my beta whose mastery of french really adds a lot to Fleur.

I checked out your stories Thesteffis and I liked your hogwarts/Harry romance. I hope you get back to writing soon. I was also a big fan of Master Eldryn's stories.

* * *

Chapter 5: Dueling with Veelas  
  
Voldemort stared at the pale body that lay strapped to a table before him in the dungeons deep below the Tower of Nightmares.  
  
"Vampires are extraordinary hard to break." The Dark Lord mentioned conversationally to the imprisoned _Homo sapiens nocturnis_. "Your immunity to the Unforgivables is admittedly annoying, but I preserve in the face of adversity." He smiled with a toothy, fang filled mouth. "Its how I survived for so long bodiless and weak."  
  
Breathing a word lightly to the tip of his wand, Voldemort smiled as the wand lit up with sunshine. Dangling the glowing instrument over the vampire which caused the creature to hiss at the painful light, Voldemort asked politely, "Tell me where the Litany is and you won't have to experience this lovely gem of a spell."  
  
"No!" The vampire gasped. "It is our holiest book."  
  
Voldemort let out a long suffering sigh. "Very well."  
  
The Dark Lord pointed his brightly shining wand at the captive vampire. The diffuse light focused into a laser tight beam that burned through the left shoulder of the vampire. Flicking his wand, Voldemort turned the beam back into its harmless state smiling to himself at the vampires agonized screams.  
  
"Where is the Litany?" The darkest of dark lords asked again calmly.  
  
Again and again the vampire refused to divulge the location of the vampire holy book. Over and over Voldemort burned the vampire with the light from his wand. The routine continued until a knock at the door disturbed his concentration.  
  
Lucius Malfoy entered the chamber bowing abjectly before his master.  
  
"My Lord, I have just received word from my contacts within the obliviator teams. They responded to a call at Potter's house and wiped out the memories of a large section of that muggle village at the behest of the old fool. It seems that Harry has spontaneously erupted as a necromancer."  
  
"Really." Voldemort drawled. "That is an interesting development." As he spoke he felt _something_ within his mind. A second presence he realized. A young one, although with a familiar magical taste.  
  
_Harry Potter.  
_  
"Lucius leave me." He said in a flat voice. "I will decide upon a suitable reward later."  
  
As Lucius departed, Voldemort ended the life of the vampire with a flick of his wand. A hot ray of molten gold light burst from the tip and decapitated the creature. Shutting off the spell Voldemort held his wand to his forehead at the spot Harry's scar was located.  
  
"Mister Potter," he hissed softly, "you seem to have found an entrance into my mind. However shall I welcome you?"

* * *

Harry woke up screaming.

* * *

Fleur Delacour woke up hearing the screams from a few doors down and muttered to herself in French.  
  
At first she was merely annoyed but that annoyance turned to fear when the fact that the scream was coming from Harry's room pierced her sleep-fogged brain. Panicking, Fleur left from her bed and snatched a thin bathrobe to cover her rather scanty sleeping attire. She was out the door so fast she had no time to wonder why the fear that sat in her stomach like ice, was so extreme.  
  
Making her way down the hall, Fleur clutched her bathrobe closed with one hand and held her veela-hair wand in the other.  
  
She tried the handle to Harry's room and when she discovered it was locked she blasted it open with a shouted Alohamora.  
  
She entered the room and saw Harry struggling to his feet using the one of his bedposts to pull himself upright.  
  
From what she could see he looked like hell. Messy black hair covered his face and his limbs twitched with fatigue. Diffused light, the color of blood, shone through his skin and an even richer light from Harry's scar shone through his black locks.  
  
The air was thick with dark magic. Fleur's skin tingled and small hairs stood on end.  
  
"'Arry?"  
  
"Ssstay away." Harry croaked. "He w-w-wants...power...back."  
  
Fleur gaped at Harry's voice. A sibilant doubling of his voice gave it an eerie twisted quality that caused icy shivers to crawl along her spine.  
  
"Who?" she whispered, knowing and dreading the answer.  
  
"Voldemort." Harry gasped. He looked up and black power fills his eyes. They appeared to be black holes set in alabaster skin that was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.  
  
"Get...away...Fleur." Harry whined. "Can't... hold him...off."  
  
"No! I will not leave you." Fleur replied fiercely. Quickly she searched her mind for a spell that could be used to help. Her mind and stomach were so twisted into knots that she could hardly think. A sticky, clammy sweat broke out on her forehead and she swiftly settled on a spell she had learned in her seventh year defense class. It had side effects but it should work  
  
Of course she hadn't actually cast the spell ever but she knew the theory. Before her courage had a chance to flee she muttered the spell.  
  
"_Ex Spiriti_." She whispered. A white light that seemed to be the very embodiment of purity erupted from her wand and enveloped Harry.  
  
Where the mist covered Harry, it sank into his skin and he threw back his head and screamed. His arm lifted up, and his muscles twitched as he fought for control of his own body. Inexorably, his arm lifted up and something pulsed from his hand. The white cloud evaporated like a snowflake on a hot summers day and blasted Fleur into a far wall.  
  
She struggled to her feet, her robe falling to the ground, and shrieked, "_Ex Spiriti_," throwing more power behind the spell. This time the stream came out like liquid light and rushed Harry, knocking him onto his back. His aura filled the air driving the purifying light away.  
  
"Go..." Harry tried to shout. "He's...hungry...wants...power back." His face was filled with agony as he motioned for Fleur to leave.  
  
"No." Fleur's voice was calm and controlled and for the very first time Harry saw the strong iron will that allowed the part veela to be the chosen of her school for the tournament. "I will not leave you."  
  
Strength was a visible aura around as she redoubled her efforts. Sweat caused the light silken slip she wore to bed to stick to her body. Veins stood out on Fleur's head, and for the first time ever she looked less than completely desirable despite her disrobed state. Her features took on a strange hungry cast as her veela blood _changed_ her into something avian. Flames danced around her shoulders and she shrieked one last time, "_EX SPIRITI_!"  
  
The resulting blast of white light knocked them both out.

* * *

Sirius found them both surrounded by an aura of white light. Harry lay sprawled on the ground near his bed, wisps of light clinging to his body as they somehow absorbed lingering spots of his reddish.  
  
Fleur was across the room crumpled into a heap. Her hand was outstretched near her wand. The aura that surrounded her seemed to be fading rather rapidly having nothing to feed on.  
  
Sirius pointed his wand at Harry and muttered, "_Enervate_."  
  
As Harry started to stir Sirius repeated the spell again and woke up Fleur.  
  
"What happened," he demanded of the girl.  
  
Fleur blinked a few times. "I do not know. I 'eard 'Arry scream, and I rushed in. 'E was in pain and zed he was being possessed by You-Know-Who. I panicked and made a lesser exorcism spell."  
  
"What!" the ex-criminal yelled. "You floggin' idiot! Do you know what you could've done to him? He's a BLOODY NECROMANCER!"  
  
Fleur flinched at Sirius' rage.  
  
"Leave her alone." Came Harry's tired voice. "She got him...saved me." Harry smiled wearily at Fleur. Green eyes met blue eyes for an instant and the depth of the younger boy's eyes struck Fleur. They were like deep green wells and she blinked and looked away before she became lost in them.  
  
Calmer, Sirius asked, "What spell did you use Fleur?" He smiled at the apprentice medi-witch in apology, which she curtly acknowledged.  
  
"I used _Ex Spiriti_," Fleur admitted. She looked down when Sirius hissed in surprise at hearing the name of the spell. Harry looked between them confused at his godfather's surprise.  
  
"What difference does that make?" Harry asked.  
  
"Nothing," Sirius replied, never taking his eyes off Fleur. "It's not important, just a rare spell is all." Now he looked to his godson. "More importantly, how are you?"  
  
Harry blinked and thought for a moment. "Actually I feel good. Really good in fact."  
  
Everyone seemed surprised at hearing that. "Well," Sirius said. "I guess we'll have Madam Pomfrey look you over in the morning." He waved his wand and summoned a greenish vial. "Take half of this sleeping draught. It'll make sure nothing gets into your dreams."  
  
Harry nodded gratefully and drank the potion. Sirius motioned to Fleur and the two of them left arguing softly. Harry tried to hear what they were saying, but it was hard when his head was filled with cotton.  
  
And then he heard no more.

* * *

The next morning Harry was poked and prodded by Madam Pomfrey's wand in a number of sensitive spots.  
  
"I'm fine, you know," Harry muttered for the hundred time, as he flinched from yet another probe by the Medi-witch.  
  
"Really," she drawled. "Is that your professional opinion? So I assume you know the three danger signs that can occur after an exorcism charm is cast?"  
  
Harry shook his head.  
  
"Then do you know the possible side effects of said charm when used on a necromancer?"  
  
"Well... no, bu --"  
  
"Then Mister Potter, kindly shut up and allow me to complete my diagnosis."  
  
The medi-witch made a swirling motion over Harry's head and sparkling golden dust dropped around his body and stuck to his skin. Conjuring a sheet of parchment, she made a motion and the sparkling dust floated to the paper and absorbed into it. Frowning, Madame Pomfrey read the parchment, making some marks with her wand.  
  
Finally she gave a sigh. "It appears Mister Potter that you are fine, which in itself is disturbing. A strong exorcism charm or repeated ones such as what my apprentice did last night," at that Pomfrey shot a look at Fleur who sat morosely in the corner of the kitchen, "should have either killed you or left you quite weakened."  
  
"Why didn't it?" Sirius asked anxiously.  
  
The medi-witch tapped her wand against the corner of her mouth. "I'm not entirely sure, it could be the nature of Harry's power or it could be part of the spell or the protection from his mother. I just don't know," she added in frustration.  
  
"Thanks for the check up Madam Pomfrey." Harry said. "I...uh...hope that Fleur doesn't get into too much trouble for helping me. I didn't mind her help at all."  
  
"That, Mister Potter is one thing I am sure of." Madam Pomfry motioned for her apprentice to follow and said, "I need to get back to Hogwarts. Fleur will be back later once I am done discussing proper procedures for exorcisms and their after-effects with my very inexperienced apprentice."  
  
Fleur followed obediently behind her mentor. Harry smiled apologetically at the lovely girl who sent a small smile of her own back at the Boy-Who- Lived.  
  
After they left Sirius fixed them both some breakfast and grinned at Harry as the boy dug into his food enthusiastically.  
  
"Whaa," Harry mumbled through his food.  
  
"Nothing. Just glad to see you eating your fill at every meal. Maybe you'll grow a few inches this summer. Impress a certain veela nurse."  
  
"Sure. That's going to happen. 'Sides, last I heard, she and Bill Weasley seemed to hit it off quite well."  
  
Sirius shook his head. "They called it off. She told me about it. Bill plans on staying in Egypt as a curse breaker and she is going to be at Hogwarts for several more years training with Madam Pomfrey."  
  
Harry perked up but said nothing. Sirius could only shake his head at the low self-esteem he exhibited. James had certainly not had that particular problem. If anything he had the opposite. Until Lily captured his heart, James was known for being quite the wandering eye. Sirius thought about trying to say something... but what? He didn't know what to say, what words he could use to help Harry. In the end he simply avoided the quandary.  
  
"So," Sirius said causally, "I was thinking about teaching you formal dueling. We have a dueling room and strip on the third floor. I thought- "  
  
"Cool." Harry finished shoveling food into his mouth and jumped out of his seat. He grabbed Sirius by the arm and tugged him out the door. "Let's go."

* * *

Sirius took Harry to an up to the third floor of Black Manor in a large room that was similar to a muggle gymnasium. Practice Dummies stood against the wall. Lined along another wall was an assortment of pads and masks. Harry walked over to a large wall hanging that read BLACK FAMILY DUELING CHAMPIONS. Underneath it was a long list of names that spanned several centuries.  
  
"Our Family has been among the premiere competitive duelers in Europe. We've taken medals in more than thirty International games down through the centuries." Sirius laughed bitterly, "We Blacks pride ourselves in two things. Pure blood and dueling ability." He walked over to the wall and grabbed a mask. "First thing, suit up." He tossed the mask to Harry.  
  
Sirius showed Harry how to put on the dueling uniform. First went on a pair of tight knee length pants and white socks. Next went on a short white leather robe tight around the arms and hung to just below the waste. A belt and thick gloves went on last. The uniform was hot, stiff, and distinctly uncomfortable.  
  
"What is with all the clothes?" Harry asked. "We didn't have to wear this stuff in Lockhart's dueling club, second year."  
  
"Lockhart was a git and wouldn't know one end of a dueling strip from his ass." Sirius smiled. "The uniform has been charmed to protect you against misfired dueling spells. It's not strong enough for full strength spells but before every duel, the judge puts a locking charm on your wand so you can only use tournament legal spells at greatly reduced power."  
  
Harry nodded, enthralled by this glimpse into a wizarding sport besides Quidditch.  
  
"Most non-lethal and non-living Conjuring Spells can be used in a tournament setting. The basic rules are simple. Score five pints on your opponent. The basic point getting spell is a stunner. In a tournament setting stunners barely sting so it's not so bad." Sirius smiled at Harry. "Shield spells don't create long lasting shields in tournaments. They create brief shields that a duelist can use to deflect the spell away. They only have enough power for one or maybe two spells so you have to keep casting. You can also get two points for disarming your opponents and one point for knocking your opponent off the strip. Tournament dueling is fast paced and tiring. Don't let up and don't get tired." Sirius stepped onto the strip. "So, ready to give it a go?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Okay. Lets see what you got." Sirius and Harry stepped onto the strip and bowed to each other. Sirius tapped Harry's wand and muttered _Pax Legalis_. He cast the same charm on his own wand. They backed up to the starting line and assumed the basic dueling stance. Right leg forward bent slightly at the knee, left foot positioned perpendicular to the right foot. Both settled into a slight crouch, knees bent. Their wand arm was extended and their other arm was arched over their heads.  
  
"Good," Sirius encouraged. "Extend your right leg a little more forward and shift your weight." He waited while Harry complied with his direction. "Excellent. Ready?" There was a slight pause. "Go!"  
  
"_Expelliarmus_!"  
  
"_Protego_!"  
  
Harry's red jet of light met Sirius's shimmering shield. It broke apart in a starburst of light.  
  
Sirius followed up by shooting a streak of blue lightning. Harry employed those Quidditch reflexes of his and narrowly avoided the blast. Dancing back and forth on his feet, Harry sent a Jelly Legs Curse and another two stunners cast in rapid succession.  
  
Sirius' shield collapsed under the weight of the spells but prevented the point for Harry. Sirius waved his wand and a patch of the ground turned to ice. Harry slipped and dropped to a knee. A stunner that blasted him onto his bum narrowly caught him, even as he was struggling to his feet.  
  
Sirius grinned. "One point for me."  
  
Harry growled, his competitive Potter spirit riled up. Bouncing to his feet he marched back to the starting line.  
  
"Remember Harry, this is wizard dueling, not muggle fencing. That's a wand, not an epee. Use your creativity, that's the key to winning."  
  
Harry nodded curtly. Sirius smiled. Both Lily and James had been astonishingly good duelers. Harry had the ability in him; all he needed to do was cut it loose.  
  
"Begin!"  
  
Sirius conjured water over Harry's head and his crashed down around him, blinding him with water. Not waiting for Harry to recover Sirius shot a stunning charm expecting Harry to take a second hit.  
  
What he didn't expect was Harry to throw himself forward onto ground. Pointing his wand, he shouted, "Accio boot!"  
  
Harry had a tremendously powerful summoning charm and Sirius' foot jerked up, causing Sirius to flip onto his back, as his boot vainly attempted to fly off. Not expecting that, Sirius had the wind knocked out of him and he stayed on the ground stunned.  
  
Harry meanwhile leapt to his feet and blasted Sirus in the chest with a stunning charm. Extending his arm, he helped his godfather to his feet.  
  
"I believe that's a point for me."

* * *

Sirius and Harry dueled for several more hours. Sirius was right; Harry had dueling in his blood. He quickly gained in skill and power. Sirius stopped going easy on Harry and instead fought with all his considerable skills. He still won more often than Harry did, but that was due to experience and possessing a greater spell repertoire than Harry. Harry was strong and creative but he simply did not have the breath of knowledge that Sirius possessed.  
  
After a while they stopped dueling and instead Sirius focused on teaching Harry new spells that he could use in a duel. He would first show Harry a spell and then quiz Harry on the best ways to use it in a duel.  
  
Sirius was actually surprised at how quickly Harry took to dueling. Remus had told him that he possessed a great deal of ability but was an indifferent student most of the time unless there was a pressing reason to learn something such as when he picked up the Patronus charm. Harry did not possess the most creative mind but the raw power and determination to win carried him far in his practices.  
  
It was lunchtime when Fleur found the two of them dueling on the strip. With a slightly curved smile she took in the pair of sweating bodies. Dueling was quite hard physically and the attire was hot as well so it was no surprise when she noticed both men were soaked in sweat. Harry's hair was plastered to his head and for once was lying flat. His white clothes were stained around the collar. Fleur noticed a particularly adorable lock that was plastered to his forehead in an S pattern.  
  
Fleur Delacour had spent a painful morning listening to her mistress discuss proper techniques for exorcisms and the many reasons why she had acted foolishly.  
  
And Fleur did not want to even think about Pomfrey's reaction to the spell she had used. Ex Spiriti was a spell that was rarely used despite its power and effectiveness.  
  
She watched the duel for a while and noticed with more than a little amusement that both men were having so much fun they failed to notice her despite her veela enhancements. Tiring of watching she slowly began to clap.  
  
Harry and Sirius both stopped immediately although she noticed neither one dropped their wands.  
  
"Lunch iz ready," Fleur announced. "It iz getting cold. Time to stop, boys." She finished with a smile.  
  
The pair moped up their sweat with towels and traded _Scourgifys_ to clean off the sweat and the smell.  
  
"You are very fast Sirius," Fleur told the older man, "but you lack style."  
  
Sirius snorted. "Dueling is about winning, not style."  
  
"Style is _très importante_." Fleur threw up her hands in disgust. "Otherwise it is just stunners traded back and forth. Dueling is beauty...or it was until zee English got zey're 'ands on it." Fleur finished in disgust.  
  
"So says the Frenchie." Sirius answered in disgust.  
  
Fleur put her hands on her hips. "French rules are zee International Standard for dueling. I waz a junior champion at Beauxbaton... fifth through seventh years, zat is why I was allowed to try for Triwizard Champion."  
  
Sirius walked back over to the strip. "Lets see how the French do it, little girl."  
  
Fleur walked over to the strip and felt Harry watch her appreciatively. Despite herself and despite their age difference she felt a little shiver as the desire Harry felt for her coiled in her mind. _The side effects are beginning_. Not bothering to change into dueling clothes she stepped to her starting line and bowed to Sirius.  
  
The escaped convict returned the bow and then dropped into basic dueling stance. Harry could see that there was a new sparkle in Sirius eye. Harry guessed that he was not the only one with a competitive spirit.  
  
"To three then?" Sirius asked. Fleur nodded, and Sirius was struck by how blue her eyes were. Shaking off the feeling, he shot a glance at Fleur who smiled and shrugged at him.  
  
Veela charm.  
  
The two pro duelers watched each other for a while and then as one they exploded into action.  
  
Sirius sent a hailstorm of stunning curses at Fleur. Harry's eyes widened. Sirius hadn't been that fast when he dueled Harry.  
  
Fleur retaliated by throwing up a cloud of amethyst mist that caught the ruby bolts and imprisoned them. Both spells faded leaving a clear field for both wizards. Fleur then retaliated with the oddest spell Harry had ever seen.  
  
With a casual wave of her wand she sent a blast of rose blossoms at Sirius, blinding him. As he struggled the wipe the petals from his face she shot him with a stunner. With a swish of her wand she banished the petals and smiled.  
  
"Point."  
  
Sirius grumbled but obligingly went back to the starting line. "You're good." he admitted, "but I am better."  
  
"We'll shall zee."  
  
Fleur immediately went on the offense and sent a sapphire blue ray at Sirius. Sirius disappeared and the ray sailed over the head of the large black dog that was in his place.  
  
With a bound, the dog closed the distance between himself and Fleur. With a scream, the Veela jumped back, frightened by the slobbering beast. Quickly shifting back into human form Sirius disarmed Fleur with a spell.  
  
"I believe," he said causally as he pretended to buff his nails, "that would be a point in my favor."  
  
Fleur's perfect brow furrowed slightly and she silently moved back to the starting line. Harry held his breath as he watched the two clearly skilled duelers battle back and forth. A rainbow of jets, blasts, conjurations, and things Harry could not even begin to name went sent out and countered by Fleur and Sirius. Each duelist scored once more on each other.  
  
The last point would decide the match.  
  
The opponents bowed to each other and then launched into an attack. A huge golden bubble spilled out of Fleur's wand and flew towards Sirius.  
  
Not wanting to be imprisoned by the bubble Sirus apparated out of the way and aimed a jet of forest green light at the Veela's feet.  
  
Leaping back, Fleur managed to avoid the riot of vines that grew from the ground and disintegrated the vines with a burst from her wand. A whip of her wand and a silken cord shot from the tip and expanded towards Sirius.  
  
Sirius flicked his wand and murmured a spell that caused the silk cord to burst into golden flames that reduced the binding to soft dust. He retaliated with a chain of stunning spells that had Fleur sweating as she deflected the spells with a series of well-placed shields of her own.  
  
Harry watched as Sirius smiled and kept the attack up, forcing Fleur to stumble backwards beneath the onslaught. Harry held his breath as the beautiful Veela fought to maintain an even footing. Sirius looked on the edge of victory when all of a sudden he was smiling dopily and his wand arm dropped to his side.  
  
Harry started in surprise and looked towards Fleur to try and understand what she had done. When he did so he took an involuntary step forward. She was perfect. Achingly so. Absolutely perfect.  
  
Her hair was a perfect silvery waterfall.  
  
Her eyes shone like priceless sapphires.  
  
Her skin was a luminescent pearl.  
  
Harry stood paralyzed by her beauty as he watched Sirius walk over to Fleur and simply give her his wand. Taking a step back Sirius smiled vacantly and waited for Fleur to give him another order.  
  
Bending forwarded she deposited a kiss and the spell was broken on both Harry and Sirius.  
  
"I win," she said simply.  
  
Throwing back her hair over her shoulders she walked over to Harry and threaded her arm through his. She guided the young duelist out the door and called out to a rapidly purpling godfather.  
  
"Zat is how zee French do it!" 


	6. In the garden of love and pain

this is the beta'd version of the chapter. not much has been changed. the next chapter should be up in a day or two.

A few questions seemed to be common and so I'm going to answer them now. blaise is a vampire princess (well sort of) and will be after Harry. She will not however be the woman scorned. That honor will go the Ginny. This is not a pro ginny story so be warned. She makes her first appearance in the next chapter.

Harry will have to make a decision between Fleur and Blaise and it won't be an easy one. Both will have their draws and their flaws. I know who he will in the end choose and why but I want you guessing.

Chapter 6: In the Garden of Love... and Pain  
  
The library of Black Manor was an amazing sight to behold. Harry's first thought about the seeming endless stacks of books was that Hermione would take one look at them and disappear, probably forever.  
  
The library was the only room in the entire mansion that was the full three stories. It stretched from floor to roof. Each of the three levels had a wrap-around banister of brass and wood. Giant shelves filled with tomes covered in dust and cobwebs littered the area. A cursory glance told Harry that the library possessed only the most rudimentary system of arrangement.  
  
He did find a tome called Speaking with Spirits: A Beginner's Guide to Necromancy in a section on ancient magics that someone, probably Sirius, left out for him  
  
Settling down on a thick chair lined with crushed velvet he thumbed through the book hoping to find an interesting section to start reading. He found it in a section on alchemy and potions unique to necromancers.  
  
_Necromancer's Blood  
  
A misnomer, because necromancers blood is not a liquid. It is in fact a thick, slightly soft and translucent substance that is composed of easy to get materials. The final ingredient is much rarer. The blood of the necromancer himself.  
  
By itself the blood has only a few uses. The necromancer can eat a cake of blood and receive enough nutrients to last a week. He or she would also lose what little sleep requirements that the necromancer still possessed. Long term use of the item in this way is not recommended because insanity has been known to set in after a few weeks of subsistence.  
  
The real strength of Necromancer's Blood is that it is an ingredient in a number of very power concoctions.  
  
The First is a powerful healing potion that can only be used by the necromancer. The potion is capable of regrowing severed limbs and nerve damage. It can bring a necromancer who is gravely wounded back from the brink of death._  
  
_Necromancers Blood can also be used in potions strengthening a person's physical form and magical ability. Such potions can only be taken intravenously (through the veins directly) and not through drinking; stomach juices destroy the effectiveness of the potion. Although there is no practical limit to the number of times the potion can be imbibed, there is a certain level of diminishing returns as well as profound physical and psychological changes that will occur should the potions be overused.  
  
The final use is a cloning fluid. The fluid is capable of cloning someone. The physical size depends on the number of cakes used. A key ingredient to all cloning attempts is a piece of the person being copied.  
  
There are several dangers in the process. While you can clone a person all you will have is a empty shell of an individual. There are a number of things that are possible with a soulless body but they are beyond the scope of this beginners guide.  
  
However if you clone an animal, the more simplistic energy and form of the creature would allow a nearly complete..._  
  
Harry dropped the book. He could clone an animal. He could clone Hedwig!  
  
Quickly thumbing through the book he tried to find the formula for the creation of the cloning formula but he found nothing. The book only had the barest hints of what was required. It was a basic primer for young necromancers. It outlined terms and powers with going into any great detail of the actual spells and formula.  
  
Jumping to his feet, Harry raced to the bookshelf where he found Speaking with Spirits and starting looking for more books on necromancy.  
  
"I did not know you loved zee books so much," A soft voice teased from behind.  
  
Harry whirled around visibly shaking with excitement. "Fleur. Good," he said distractedly. "You can help me look for a book."  
  
Fleur smiled in amusement. Any other youth would have been tongue tied by her presence, but not Harry. Nope, he just pressed her into service.  
  
"What are we looking for?"  
  
Harry grabbed his book and pointed out the formula. "We're looking for the instructions for that."  
  
Fleur took one look at the formula and understood why Harry wanted it so much. As Harry started to look at the titles on the spines, Fleur took a different tactic. Drawing her wand she muttered _Accio Libris Alchemica_.  
  
A wind kicked up and books from every level of the library whipped from their spot on the shelf and stacked themselves neatly on the ground.  
  
Harry stepped back as a book fluttered by his head, almost hitting him. Turning around he asked a smiling Fleur what she did.  
  
"I use a mass summoning to bring every book in zee library with potion instructions in it to zee floor. Now we can simply look through them to see if zee potion you are looking for iz there."  
  
Although the search was still greatly reduced there were still a substantial number of books to go through so Harry and Fleur sat down together and each grabbed a book to start looking.

* * *

Hours later neither person had found anything like the potion Harry was looking for. He was about to grab another book when Fleur abruptly stood up and stretched her arms.  
  
Turning around she pulled Harry to his feet.  
  
"Come." Fleur tugged on Harry's arm. "Let us leave zis library and take a walk around zee garden in zee back."  
  
Harry, despite his desire for answers wasn't going to turn down a quiet walk with the beautiful older veela. She gripped him by the hand and led him through the house. When they passed Sirius, the ex-convict gave Harry a covert thumbs up to which Harry simply rolled his eyes.  
  
The garden was a maze of roses and the warm evening air hung pregnant with its scent. The garden itself was behind a black brick wall that isolated the garden from the rest of the grounds. At the juncture of each path in the garden was a marble wizarding statue. The statues moved and some even talked a little. Most seemed to be wizarding variations on famous muggle artwork and Fleur took some pleasure in pointing out many of the most interesting pieces of work to Harry. She laughed when they encountered a statue of David who firmly refused to move his hands from his crotch or a copy of the Thinker whose chin kept slipping off his fist. She also told Harry that Sirius informed her that True Elven gardeners who befriended the first of the Blacks were the ones who created the garden and imbued it with their strange nature magic to enhance the growth and lengthen the lives of many of the rarest of the plants.  
  
The pair was enjoying the sunset and the birth of the star filled twilight sky when Harry asked a question which silenced the normally playful and flirtatious Fleur.  
  
"What made you decide to be Madam Pomfry's apprentice?"  
  
Fleur stopped and then pulled Harry over to a nearby stone bench. She folded her hands with a slight, classy gesture that made Harry's stomach flip flop a little.  
  
"I came for zee funeral. Cedric's funeral." She began softly. "My parents did not want me to go but 'e was a champion, a 'ero... I wanted to remember him. Most of 'Ogwart's staff was there, although I believe that Professor Snape did not go. At zee wake I ran into Mademoiselle Pomfrey and we talked about my plans since I had graduated. I mentioned some names that I was considering working for and she snorted and told me I would learn more from a book on muggle first aid. She made me a better offer and I accepted." Fleur shrugged. "Zat was zat."  
  
Harry was silent. Somehow the possibility of Cedric having a funeral never occurred to Harry. He should have gone. He owed that much to the Hogwart's champion.  
  
"Was it a nice funeral?" he asked quietly.  
  
Fleur nodded and grabbed Harry by the hand.  
  
"It was not your fault Harry. No one could have predicted zee trophy being a port key. His parents do not blame you Harry. They were grateful that you brought him back and they asked about you at zee funeral."  
  
Harry shook his head in disbelief.  
  
"I was 'oping I would get to see you at zee funeral 'Arry." Fleur said suddenly. "I wanted to apologize for some of zee things I thought about you during zee tournament."  
  
Snapping out of his funk Harry smiled for the first time all afternoon. "Like what?" He asked amused.  
  
"I thought you were a little boy who was out of his depth." Fleur admitted. "I thought you were a joke. Zee Boy-Who-Lived is less of a deal in France, so I did not expect much."  
  
"What changed your mind?"  
  
"Zee first task." Fleur laughed. "I think zee dragon dodging showed me you were more zan a little boy. I saw a competitor, someone who 'ad a real chance to win. Zen I began to expect."  
  
"You and everyone else." Harry whispered. "Everyone expected of me. I was the boy who lived. What was a tournament when I had already defeated Voldemort? I was so scared that people would see through me and realize I was a fraud." Harry snorted. "I was a fraud. I wasn't everyone thought I was. What they need me to be. People either were in awe of me or hated me because I stole Cedric's thunder as the 'rightful' champion. But not Cedric. He never said one cross word; he never hinted that he thought I was stealing his glory. He was a gentleman the whole time."  
  
"He was a good man." Fleur agreed. There wasn't a lot she could say. Harry's speech clearly had the air of something that had been building for a long time and was definitely needed by him.  
  
The pair lapsed into silence and they sat in the twilight. Harry stared off into the darkness, his mind unfocused and clearly a thousand miles away. Fleur took the opportunity to study Harry. Her eyes traced his face. She carefully examined both high cheekbones and strong nose. She admired his firm chin. And of course her eyes traced the famous scar. But his emerald orbs were where she spent the most time. They shined in the moonlight, glimmered with an inner power all their own.  
  
She blinked and looked again. His face seemed more masculine than it had a few days ago. His jaw line was more defined and his youthful softness seemed to have melted away. Looking back on her walk she noticed that Harry had seemed a little taller than he was when she had been taking care of him. That was impossible! No one grew that fast. Her mind flew as she tried to figure out what was going on.  
  
"Fleur!"  
  
"What!" Fleur jumped at the sharp note in Harry's voice.  
  
"You were staring." Harry answered softly.  
  
"I was?"  
  
"You were."  
  
Fleur looked away and blushed a little. "I was noticing that you looked older zan you did during zee tournament."  
  
"I do?" Harry replied, quite surprised.  
  
Fleur nodded vigorously. "I am certain zat you will 'ave great luck with zee girls at school this year 'Arry."  
  
This time Harry looked away. "What if I don't want a girl from school?" He asked softly.  
  
Fleur could feel something between them. Veela blood had many amazing benefits but it also had its drawbacks. Veela were creatures of sensation. They were hedonists and sensualists of the highest order. The Ex Spiriti spell was only making the effect worse. She could feel his lust towards her and it was bleeding over into her own thoughts. She could feel a desire to press her lips against his and show him the difference between a school girl and a woman...but the human part of Fleur held her back.  
  
This wasn't right. Harry was too young. He was being hunted by a powerful dark wizard. He was too inexperienced. Fleur liked men with life under their belt. Men like Bill Weasley who had exciting, dangerous jobs who had lots of opportunity for advancement. She had always had her pick of men and she had always made wise decisions when it came to the men in her life. She hadn't dated a boy...well, ever. Veela developed early and Fleur had never dated anyone her own age.  
  
Harry leaned forward slightly and scooted in closer to Fleur. He could feel that she wanted this. Wanted to kiss him. Harry moved closer and pursed his lips slightly. He was a little behind the curve in terms of romance skills. The only girls who came over to number four were for Dudley and most of the girls at school were either intimidated by his fame or uninterested. Besides people kept trying to kill him every year. This sadly quashed any attempts at romance.  
  
Fleur immediately noticed that Harry's technique was...rather basic, to put it kindly. Yet despite her greater experience she too felt nervous. She did want this and she had no idea why. It was more than the empathic leftovers of a spell and it was more than her fey blood. She had not lied when she told Sirius that Harry was a compelling soul. There was intensity about Harry that drew her in...  
  
No! Harry was just..._wrong_. Wrong for her. Yet she found herself leaning in for the kiss. She could feel the warmth of Harry's body and leaned forward...  
  
Fleur shook her head and leapt backwards. She kept far away from Harry and winced as she saw the rejected look on the boys face. This was the problem.  
  
He was a boy.  
  
"This is wrong, 'Arry. You are too young. A boy still."  
  
Harry flinched as if struck. "T-T-That's not what you just said," he whispered. "You said I was looking older and that I was a real competitor." He seemed to almost physically shrink.  
  
He was just a boy.  
  
It shouldn't be this hard.  
  
"You are a great wizard 'Arry, but you know nothing about girls...or women." Fleur looked down. "I do like you...but that's not enough." She whispered. She couldn't bear to look at him. The empathic connection created between her and Harry was buffeting her with his emotions.  
  
And they were breaking her heart.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Albus Dumbledore's voice caused shattered the silence that developed between Harry and Fleur. The pair stared at each other from a million miles away as old headmaster appeared around the corner of the garden maze.  
  
"Ah, Miss Delacour. I didn't know that you were here." The headmaster's eyes twinkled with a certainty. Neither person had any illusions about what the old wizard had or had not heard. "Do you mind if I have some time alone with Harry?"  
  
"Not at all 'Eadmaster."  
  
Fleur blushed and with one last glance at a heartbroken Harry, left the pair alone. Dumbledore took Fleur's place on the bench and sat quietly with Harry for a while.  
  
"I'm sorry I interrupted you Harry." He began.  
  
"You didn't...well I guess you did, but I'm not sure what." Harry sighed. "Do women ever get less confusing? Or irritating."  
  
"Harry, I am counted as a very wise man among the wizard community and after many years of experience I must say that they do not. On either point." Dumbledore smiled as he spoke and then let the smile float away from his face. "I heard that you had an episode last night. Can you tell me about it?"  
  
"Yes sir." All thoughts of Fleur left Harry as he focused on the events of last night. He told Dumbledore everything he remembered from the vision and what happened afterwards.  
  
"So Voldemort is looking for the Litany." The headmaster mused. "That's an interesting artifact for him to go after."  
  
"What is it, Professor?"  
  
Dumbledore peered at Harry over his bifocals and stared hard that the boy. Nodding to himself the old man seemed satisfied by what he found.  
  
"The litany that Voldemort wants is called the Litany of Blood. It's a religious text for vampires. There is only one copy in the world and it is controlled by the vampire king of Britain. Voldemort wants it because it contains the entire body of ancient spells and blood magic's of the vampires. He may be a skilled dark wizard, but when it comes to blood magic he is just an amateur compared to a vampire blood sorcerer."  
  
"What could he use it for?"  
  
Dumbledore shrugged. "I don't know but that was not my main reason for coming here tonight. I wished to speak with you about several important items."

* * *

Fleur fled down the garden path towards the house with her mind spinning. She could not like Harry. Must not like him. He was too young. He was innocent and inexperienced and he was just WRONG FOR HER!  
  
Fleur opened the back door of the house and stalked inside. As much as she wanted to tell herself that, she knew it wasn't true. Her veela blood knew emotions of love, lust, and hate and she was definitely feeling at least lust for Harry.  
  
_Is that what their calling it now a days.  
  
What about Ex Spiriti.  
  
You know what the consequences of the spell were even if he doesn't_.  
  
Fleur was walking to her to room so that she could have some time to think when she saw a most unusual sight.  
  
Tonks had Percy pinned up against the staircase and was busy snogging him. Percy had one arm firmly wrapped around Tonks waist while his other arm was feebly attempting to push her away. Finally Tonks broke the kiss (more due to a necessity for air than Percy's struggles) and straightened her shoulder length lime green hair.  
  
"I told you what I was going to do if you canceled on me." She teased in mock anger. "This is our one month anniversary."  
  
"Honestly Tonks. Dumbledore trusts me with important work. I can't just take some time off." Percy attempted to regain his dignity by straightening his robes -- totally neglecting the smear of lipstick that decorated his mouth and cheeks.  
  
"Come on Perce -- I was going to play elven princess for you tonight." At that Tonks swept back her long green hair to reveal a lobe less, sharply pointed elven ear." She blinked suddenly very large eyes at Percy, who gulped and looked away.  
  
"Don't do that," he said softly. "You know I don't like it when you play dirty, Nym."  
  
Tonks pouted. "But I want you home, keeping me warm." She dropped the playful act and said seriously. "I told you when we started dating that I wasn't going to play second to work. I respect you wanting to do well by Dumbledore, but I want you home. With me."  
  
Percy touched his head to the smaller aurors and whispered. "I want that too, love, but I can't. Dumbledore trusts me to find out what Fudge is up to. You know I have to go."  
  
Tonks nodded mutely and pecked Percy on the lips. This time the kiss lacked frenetic energy and was sweeter. More about love than lust.  
  
Fleur hardly blinked but suddenly Tonks looked normal. She had short silvery blond hair and light blue eyes set into a heart shaped face that crumpled with dejection. Somehow Fleur knew that this was the way she really looked. And it was something that she rarely showed anyone. Fleur wanted to turn around and leave, embarrassed by the intimate talk she was overhearing but she needed to go to her room and they were blocking the staircase.  
  
Percy turned to walk away but then he turned back around.  
  
"For the record, I, as much I like the...hem...games we play, I like you like most of all like this." He lightly cupped her face and planted a kiss on her nose.  
  
Turning around he walked away and Tonks sat on the bottom of the stair case. Her pretty, if unremarkable features melted away and a halo of deep purple hair covered her face like a veil.  
  
"And people wonder when I'm with the guy." Tonks muttered dejectedly  
  
Fleur turned around and started walking to the library where she could wait until Tonks moved.  
  
"Fleur?"  
  
Fleur stiffened and turned around.  
  
"'Ello Tonks."  
  
Tonks looked around. "Am I blocking the staircase? Oh, I am aren't I?" She jumped up. "Sorry about that. Got caught up in a bit o' drama." She stared embarrassedly at Fleur. "I suppose you saw that, though, didn't you."  
  
Fleur nodded silently. She walked forward to get on the staircase when she realized she didn't want to be alone either.  
  
"Tonks, would you like to share some tea with me." The younger girl asked.  
  
Tonks perked up. "Yes," she replied sounding relieved. She grabbed Fleur's arm. "You could tell me all about your walk with Harry." Tonks added conspiratorially.  
  
Fleur silently groaned.

* * *

"What did you come here to tell me Professor?"  
  
The two of them were bathed in starlight as they sat in the darkness of the Black garden.  
  
"I've been doing some research on your behalf, Harry, since you've become a necromancer and I came across an interesting item. Have you noticed any differences in your body in the last few days?"  
  
Harry thought for a second. "No. Wait. Fleur told me she thought I looked older than I did during the tournament."  
  
"Did she," Dumbledore replied with some amusement.  
  
Harry reddened. "It's not what you think."  
  
"I'm sure not. In any case I've discovered that necromancers experience some changes when they first manifest as a result of their life force and magic becoming linked."  
  
"What kind of changes." Harry asked suspiciously.  
  
"Well, from what I gather you will become much stronger and tougher. Your strength will be four or five times greater than you size and mass should indicate. Furthermore your magic is going to subconsciously alter your body to reach its idealized state although I have not the slightest idea how long that's going to take. You won't have the strength or power of a muggle superhero but you will notice a difference. "  
  
Harry sat in silence. Yet another difference between him and the rest of the world. "What else did you want to tell me," he said finally.  
  
"Remus will be here sometime tonight to tell us if he has secured a trainer for your new abilities. In the meantime I thought we could get started with Occlumency."  
  
"Sure." Harry shrugged. "But can I ask some questions first?"

* * *

"So I say, 'fine if you won't grow a goatee for me, then I won't grow my hair down to my bum for you and let you play with it', and he got the funniest look on his face." Tonks told Fleur as the pair sat the kitchen table drinking tea. "Not sure if it was 'cause I said it in front of his mum or he was upset I wouldn't do it for him anymore."  
  
"Good for you," Fleur replied absently. She swirled her tea and stared at the dregs hoping to divine some advice for her problems in the bottom of the cup  
  
"...and then thestrals flew out of my ass and we all lived in the Himalayas forever."  
  
"That's good too." Fleur's head snapped up. "What..."  
  
"You disappeared there for a second." Tonks told the younger girl. "What's up? You've been off all night."  
  
Fleur sighed. "'Arry almost kissed me."  
  
Tonks leaned forward eagerly. "So what happened?"  
  
"Nothing. I stopped him before anything could happen." Fleur hesitated and then continued, "But I did want to kiss him."  
  
"So why didn't you?"  
  
"Because it was wrong," Fleur emphasized. "'E iz too young. 'E is inexperienced. I like men not boys." She finished.  
  
"So why do you like Harry?"  
  
"I don't know."

* * *

"Of course Harry." Dumbledore answered while raising a hand in caution. "I cannot promise that I'll answer but you may certainly ask."  
  
Harry took a deep breath. It was rare that Dumbledore was this forthcoming. He may not get many more chances like this.  
  
"Sir, in Voldemort's letter he said that you knew why my parents were killed but that you would never tell me." Harry's emerald eyes bored into his headmasters. "Sir, I want to know why my parents were killed."  
  
Dumbledore looked at the heavens and the twinkling stars while he thought about his answer. "Your parents were good Gryffindor's," he began. "They were brave and loyal and would have fought against Tom no matter what, but he came after them first. Three times he attempted to kill them Harry, and three times he was denied that pleasure."  
  
"But why!" Harry pleaded. "Why them?"  
  
"He was terrified of your mother. He thought she was something she was not." Dumbledore sighed. "He thought she was something that would be dangerous to him. But she wasn't. She was simply a talented muggleborn witch that married a proud and moderately wealthy pureblood. Your father."  
  
"But that doesn't make any sense."  
  
"No, I don't suppose it does." Dumbledore's voice was heavy with age and fatigue and for the first time Harry really looked at his headmaster. The man looked old. His aged skin sagged and fatigue hung like a fog around him.  
  
"Are you all right, Sir?" Harry asked hesitantly.  
  
The headmaster smiled. "I am as well as I can be. The wards I put up around Black Manor and the Burrow have taken a bit more of a toll than I had expected but I will be fine with a little rest." He looked down at the youth. "I can see you have another question for me Harry. Don't be afraid to ask it."  
  
"Headmaster you said that my aura used to be white and that meant I could be an archmage. With my new powers that I've taken from Voldemort, would I make a powerful archmage?"  
  
"I expect you would."  
  
"Then why don't you train me to be one!" Harry shouted. "I could be a big help. I hate having to leave the room when the grown-ups are talking order business. I hate that I still know almost nothing about what's going on. I could be a big help. I need to be able to help!"  
  
Dumbledore stood up and for a crazy instant Harry was worried his little outburst had offended the headmaster. With twist of his hand a bar of mist appeared in his hand. Mist that rapidly solidified into a slender brown staff inscribed with runes and bound at both ends with bronze.  
  
"This is my archmage staff Harry. It's like a wand in that I channel my power through it. It is also totally unique to me. Archmage's craft their own individual staffs. They pour their power into it until it becomes an extension of their life and soul." Dumbledore caressed the ancient wood and spoke in a far away voice. "It is said that an archmages staff cannot be broken, that it is as eternal as the source of magic itself." The old wizard shook his head ruefully and smiled. "But that is neither here nor there. Harry, I want you to tell me if you can read any of these runes?"  
  
Harry pushed away the staff. "I can't read any runes sir, I never took Ancient Runes at Hogwarts." He looked down at his feet, more than a little ashamed.  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
"Because Divination and Care of Magic Creatures is easier." Came the soft reply  
  
Dumbledore sat back down. "Then Harry how do you expect to train as an archmage if you have not taken your current studies as seriously as you might have. Magic is a demanding mistress. You cannot study to be an archmage by picking the easiest classes. You have to burn with the need to know things. To know everything. You have to sacrifice. Take the hard path instead of the easy. You have to make a choice to _learn_."  
  
Dumbledore's voice was low, insistent, and powerful. Power seemed to roll off of him like a wave. Harry could feel it roll across his skin. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. It wasn't the rush of spell casting. It wasn't the hum and tingle of holding a proper wand for the first time. It was deeper, more profound feeling... like Dumbledore was attuned to a deep well of _something_.  
  
"I understand." Harry said quietly. If Harry wanted to be trained to his full potential he would start having to make some decisions about his studies and the seriousness with which he took them. Did he just want get by like he had been, or did he want more than that?  
  
The pair sat in silence as they were lost within their own thoughts. It seemed like the Occlumency lesson had been abandoned for the evening. Harry finally interrupted the silence with one last question.  
  
"Professor, I was wondering if you could arrange a trip for me. I would like to visit Cedric's grave. To pay my respects and stuff..." Harry's voice trailed off.  
  
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I believe that can be-"  
  
The headmaster was interrupted by Remus Lupin. The werewolf ran into the garden clearing and stopped in front of Harry and Dumbledore. He shot a smile at Harry but spoke to the older wizard as soon as he was able to catch his breath.  
  
"Albus I talked to the vampires and they agreed to train Harry but..." His voice trailed off. Clearly whatever he was about to say was going not going to be something anyone wanted to hear.  
  
"The Night King agreed to the training but he wants something from Harry." Dumbledore finished and Lupin nodded. The werewolf turned to Harry.  
  
"He wants you to marry his daughter."

* * *

Please read and leave a review if you already haven't. they really do keep me going when my imagination flees and help me write faster


	7. Little Black Book

I want to thank everyone who has reviewed and ask that you keep up the good work. it really helps to get the morale up when a chapter is being particularly recalictant

Casting- Every so often I will put up an casting note. I will do this when I strongly visualize a particular actor in a specific characters spot. In this case...

Lindsay Lohan...Ginny Weasley Kiera Knightly...Blaise Zabini

* * *

Chapter 7 Little Black Book  
  
"No! Absolutely not."  
  
Sirius paced back and forth worrying the plush carpet beneath his worn feet. Remus and Albus sat in thick chairs. All three of them, plus Harry, sat in a wood paneled office on one of the upper levels of Black Manor.  
  
"I refuse to allow Harry to marry some...some...vampire whore!" The ex- criminal spat.  
  
"It has been done before." Dumbledore said serenely. "It is a long established custom among pure-blooded wizards to arrange marriages for something other than love."  
  
"I cannot believe that you would even consider--"  
  
"I don't get it." Harry suddenly spoke up. Ever since Lupin's revelation, Harry had been quiet. Thoughtful. He hadn't said one word about anything until that moment.  
  
"What don't you get?" Remus asked kindly.  
  
"Why would some vampire king want me to marry one of his daughters? I just don't understand."  
  
"Harry," Sirius began. "Have you ever wondered why your vault has so much money in it?"  
  
"Sure," he replied. "I thought about it, but I just figured they had good jobs or something."  
  
Sirius and Remus traded looks. "Not exactly. Your family, up until your great grandfather was not a rich one. Your ancestors on your father's side were pure in blood and greatly respected but they were never rich." Sirius began.  
  
Remus took up the story. "That all changed with your great grandfather. Back then the ministry paid bounties for dead vampires if you turned in their fangs. Quite a large bounty. And Sebastian Potter was a very good vampire hunter. He filled the potter vault with gold won from the teeth of vampires. After he died the vampire king went after his family -- including your grandfather. Your grandfather was able to preserve the Potter line by agreeing to have his son marry one of the king's daughters. Damien, the vampire ruler, believed that only by mixing his own bloodline with that of the Potters could the stain of dishonor be removed. He thought it would be poetic justice to mix the great hunter's blood with that which he hunted. Your grandfather only had one son, James, and so he was promised the hand of one of Damien's daughters."  
  
Sirius picked up the story's thread again. "Your father didn't want to do it. But he was going to because his family's safety mattered to him more than anything. At least until he met your mother." Sirius smiled. "Your father always had a wandering eye when it came to women. Frankly because it didn't matter. His spouse had been chosen for him before he had been born. Then he was knocked on his behind by Storm Lily. He forsook his duty and when it came time to marry a rather lovely vampire named Siren, he turned her down and married your mother. Two years later they had you and the vampires never took revenge on your father because Voldemort got to them first." Sirius clenched his fist. "Your father fought to marry the woman he loved and I won't let you be forced into the choice he avoided. I WON'T!" Sirius finished fiercely.  
  
"We should still meet with them. Perhaps we could still convince them to help." Dumbledore answered placatingly.  
  
Remus shook his head. "I doubt it. Vampire society is old and bound with custom. A blood feud is not dropped lightly. And Damien is cold... even for a vampire."  
  
Sirius nodded in agreement.  
  
"I say we meet with them." Harry interjected suddenly. "Hear what the king has to say." He shook his head. "Who knows what could happen."  
  
"Don't do this Harry," Sirius said pleadingly.  
  
"I have to. I don't want to be dangerous if I don't have to be." Harry said. "Don't worry. I'm not going to be marrying anyone." The young wizard laughed. "After all, I am only fourteen."  
  
Dumbledore stood up. "It is Harry's decision." He turned to Lupin. "Remus, arrange a meeting for tomorrow night."

* * *

Fleur sat behind a desk on the second floor of the Black House as dawn light filled her room. Her quill scratched across the parchment as she made some notes on several advanced healing potions that Madam Pomfry had assigned. In frustration she threw down her quill and stared out her window.  
  
Work was impossible. She kept turning over in her mind what had happened last night with Harry. He looked handsome framed by the moonlight. Harry looked less like the boy she had competed against and more like the man he would become.  
  
Already might be.  
  
But it was impossible.  
  
He was too young. Barely starting his fifth year of school while she had already graduated. She had traveled around the globe and he had never left Great Britain. She was used to dating older and more experienced men. He had never had a girlfriend. There were so many differences.  
  
Still.  
  
There was something to be said about being a first. First kiss. First crush. First girlfriend. First -- well there were lots of things she could be the first of for Harry. It appealed to her. It was immortality of a kind. No one forgot their firsts, no matter how many others followed the same path.  
  
Fleur did not know what it was about harry that made her even consider him a love interest. He was young and inexperienced and nothing about him fit her favorite male type. There was something about him, a presence that he wore like a cloak. She had the feeling that he did not see how much he truly affected the people around him.  
  
Even her.  
  
She had seen glimpses of a truly great wizard, a legend in the making when she competed against him in the tournament. Even then, insecure, shy, not really ready for what had been thrust at him she could feel the seeds of greatness. That presence of Harry drew her in, like a moth to a bright flame. Harry was a beacon and no matter what she thought about their age difference or the awkwardness of their dating at Hogwarts she wasn't sure she could resist him  
  
Or even if she wanted to.  
  
Fleur stared out the window and watched as a Firebolt burst into the sky. She watched as Harry dove and spun through the air as he flew furiously. His flight was not smooth and joyous like the previous she had observed. Instead it was angry, jerky. Filled with sharp, cutting moves.  
  
It was as if Harry flew like all the demons out of hell were behind his broomstick.  
  
Knowing Harry it was possible they were.

* * *

That night, Harry dressed in well-tailored but plain clothes. A simply black V-neck sweater and tan pants. He met with Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore in the entryway of Black Manor.  
  
The four of them looked at each other and Dumbledore drew his wand and started to chant. He weaved his wand and threads of power shot from the tip and spun in the air. They formed an oval arch that crackled with blue lightning and sent out little sparks of energy that sent tingles to the people nearby.  
  
As the arch formed, the center filled with energy that made it resemble nothing so much as a horizontal puddle of water that swirled with ripples and eddies.  
  
Sirius was the first one through the portal followed quickly by Remus. Dumbledore motioned for Harry to go through and so Harry stepped through the portal. His skin tingled and his arm hair stood on end as he crossed the threshold.  
  
He entered what looked to be an ordinary London townhouse. The floor was covered with thin tan carpeting and all of the furniture appeared to be antiques. Of course what was more immediately apparent were the wands that Sirius and Remus had trained on a pair of men inside the room.  
  
The first of the men was a slender man with a fine boned and thin lipped face. Dark red hair shot with silver hung loose to his shoulders. His skin was as pale as chalk and Harry could see a thin tracery of blue veins in his face. He wore expensively tailored muggle clothes and stared at the wands trained on him with an amused and indulgent smile.  
  
The other man looked scared enough for the both of them. As pale as the first vampire, this one wore wizard robes of fine cut and reams of gold jewelry. His pale face was seamed with age and his droopy eyes darted back and forth between the wand wielding wizards.  
  
Harry stared at the first vampire in amazement. He could feel energy pouring off him in waves. How could the others stand it? His skin was on fire with power coming off the vampires. It was intoxicating.  
  
Unconsciously Harry reached forward with his own core of power and tried to touch the source of the other energy.  
  
"I wouldn't do that if I were you Harry," the younger looking vampire spoke softly. He tapped his own forehead. "You're a little untrained to be trying to control me."  
  
Dumbledore stepped through the portal and dismissed it with wave of his wand. "Put down your wands." He said to Sirius and Remus. The two lowered their weapons and growled menacingly at the vampires.  
  
The first vampire walled over to a cabinet and poured himself a dark red drink from a crystal decanter. Swirling it he stared at the glass and spoke. "It's a good thing you remembered not to apparate. I may not be able to prevent you wizards from coming into my home, but I assure you," he smiled feraly, "it would have been uncomfortable for you."  
  
"Cut out the dark prince crap Damien." Sirius said. "Remus and I know you too well for it."  
  
"Ah, but Harry doesn't." The vampire king said. "So I suppose I should introduce myself to him." He walked over to the boy who lived and extended his hand. "Damien, King of the Nightshade Clan of Vampires." There was a slight pause. "At your service." Next he motioned to the old looking vampire. "This is Augustus, advisor to the throne.  
  
Harry took Damien's hand and shook it. He marveled at the cold, firm grip of the vampire. Clearly he was stronger than any normal person. He watched Damien's face and noticed that he appeared surprised about something.  
  
"I think," Damien said, "that we should all take a seat and discuss what it is we are all here for." He motioned for everyone to take a seat and they did so. "First of all, thank you for meeting with me Harry. I think you will be surprised at the generosity of my offer."  
  
Sirius leaned back and folded his arms, his posture screaming defiance to everyone in the room. Damien took note but fixed his bright sapphire gaze on Harry. "You have become a Necromancer, Harry, and you need training. This ability is rare and dangerous and should it go untrained you could prove to be a danger to yourself and others. I will be willing to train you personally if you agree to several concessions. First." He held up an alabaster finger, "I want you to fulfill the pact your ancestors made with me and marry a child of my line. I have a young daughter your age in Hogwarts right now and she would be just perfect. You will of course receive a significant dowry for taking her hand in marriage. Secondly I want the marriage to be a public affair. Augustus is a consecrated vampire priest and thus will officiate. Do those two things and I will train you with all the skills I possess."  
  
"Why do I need you?" Harry's voice was deep and sarcastic. "Hogwarts has a big library. What says I can't go there and get all the training I need?"  
  
"Necromancy is more than wand waving and book learning Harry." Damien clasped his hands together, interlocking his fingers. "It is a tight melding of your magic and your life force. It is as much instinct as learning. You cannot just read about it." The vampire snorted in derision, as if the very notion of book knowledge offended him.  
  
"Why," Harry asked slowly, "do you want me to marry your daughter? What's the point? If I need training why not ask for money or magical objects...you would get just about anything you asked for, except a marriage proposal?"  
  
Harry sat back and Sirius and the others were a little surprised at the level of maturity he seemed to radiate. Damien too seemed a little shocked at the maturity demonstrated by the boy wizard. The vampire king could feel the untrained power of Harry and barely restrained his desire to rub his hands in glee at the thought of the boy under his control.  
  
"It's simple really. You are the Boy-Who-Lived. You marrying into my family would give vampires legitimacy. No one would dare speak out against the half-blood children of Harry Potter. You would make vampires into respectable citizens. I want my people to have peace Harry, and you and your fame can give me that." The king spoke quietly and with honest fervor.  
  
"How dare you...you...VAMPIRE!" Sirius jumped up sputtering in anger. "Harry will marry for love. Like his parents did."  
  
The king's eyes glowed like coals. "Control your _lapdog_ Harry or I will do it for you." He spit. "And I assure you that unlike Sirius _my_ bite is worse than my bark."  
  
Harry stood up. "I don't trade on my fame, King Nightshade. I never have. No deal."  
  
He and the other wizards got up to leave when Damien stopped them with a hand motion. "Before you go I would like you to at least meet my daughter whom you would marry. Perhaps she can convince you otherwise."  
  
On that note a lovely young woman Harry's age walked into the room. She wore jeans and black silk man's shirt artlessly untucked. Her skin was pale, not the unnatural tone of the vampires, but a simple human pallor. Thick black hair curled loosely down her back and pale blue eyes shone beneath beautifully arched eyebrows.  
  
"Blaise?" Harry asked incredulously. "YOU'RE his daughter?"  
  
"I did mention that she had gone to school with you." Damien answered casually. "If you accept my proposal, Blaise would be your betrothed." Blaise looked distinctly bored at the discussion of her possible future. "Honey, give Harry a tour of the house. I wish to speak with Dumbledore."  
  
For the first time since she entered the room Blaise Zabini spoke. "Of course father." She spun around and headed towards the door.  
  
"Coming Potter?"  
  
"Don't go." Sirius cautioned.  
  
"Don't be an idiot Sirius. The boy is safe in my home." Damien smiled. "I promise my daughter only bites when asked."  
  
Remus held Harry's godfather back as he moved to throttle the vampire king.  
  
"Don't worry Sirius. It can't hurt to take a little walk." Harry's eyes never left his school mates form. His voice was flat and calm. He took a step forward and walked out the door with Blaise

* * *

_Somewhere in Romania  
_  
Molly Weasley watched in apprehension as her youngest boy threw a slab of meat in the dragon's pen. He stared in fascination as a small male Green skittered forward and grabbed the beef and a second, larger female Blue tackled her for the food. As the two great lizards grappled on the ground, Ron leaned forward to get a better look. Charlie, his older brother, grabbed him and dragged him away from the fence so he couldn't be hit by a stray tail.  
  
The Weasley matriarch had convinced her husband that she should take the youngest children with her on a trip to Romania to visit Charlie for most of the summer. She was worried about the Burrow not being as safe as it could be. While she was gone, Dumbledore and Arthur had begun warding the Burrow so her family could be safe when they went back home.  
  
Ron had complained the most about leaving, mostly because he didn't want to leave Harry without news for the summer. When he got to the dragon preserve though, Charlie put him to work with the dragons and Ron rose to the challenge. He discovered much to his own amazement that he liked working with the great lizards and hardly a complaint was heard since.  
  
Molly was startled to see that Ron was taller than his brother now. The youngest male Weasley seemed to grow at an alarming rate over the summer. All knees and elbows, Ron used to have a puppy-dogish, lanky mien, but with a discerning mother's eye Molly could see that Ron was filling out with all of the hard work that Charlie had shoveled on him. He was turning out to be quite the handsome boy -- looking more like Bill than any of his other brothers.  
  
She also noticed that he was growing out his hair and way overdue for a trim. Far too much like his brother Bill.  
  
Charlie on the other hand was the shortest of the Weasley men. With broad, powerful shoulders and a stocky frame, Charlie radiated understated strength and physical power.  
  
"Ron got distracted by the dragons again, didn't he?"  
  
Ginny's voice broke Molly's reverie. She turned around and found her only daughter at her shoulder. Molly smiled. Ron wasn't the only one who had changed over summer.  
  
Ginevra Weasley had begun growing up. Molly had been shocked to see how much her daughter had changed during her third year of school. Ginny had lost a lot of baby fat and developed a pretty, sculpted face. Her body was soft and curved far too womanly for Molly's taste. Taller than her, Ginny was prettier than Molly had been in her own long lost youth. Even her hair had darkened from the ordinary orange-red to a deeper scarlet color and she let it grow long and thick.  
  
Molly experienced a short pang when she realized her youngest was nearly ready to leave the nest.  
  
"How are your summer studies going?"  
  
Ginny frowned. "Fine. I'd be better if you'd let me work with Charlie though." She folded her hands, clearly miffed by her mother's orders. Ginny had wanted to work with Charlie and Ron, but Molly had forbid it.  
  
"You know that dragon handling is no place for a girl Ginny." Molly lectured. "Its dangerous work and your just not strong enough. Plus you could get scarred by dragon fire."  
  
"Honestly." Ginny huffed. "I came, because I want to borrow Pig. Amanda just wrote me and I want to send a message back."  
  
"Pig can't make an international mail drop dear. Use one of the colony owls. Ask Marcus if you can." Marcus Lowfyr was a wizard a few years older than Ginny who worked as an intern at the Dragon Colony. He was almost painfully infatuated with Ginny.  
  
"Yes Mum." Ginny started to walk away.  
  
"Oh, and dear."  
  
"Mum?"  
  
"Clean yourself up. Marcus is a handsome boy and you don't want to look mussed."  
  
"M--UM!"  
  
Ginny's plaintive wail carried across the grounds.

* * *

"So are you worried about OWL's this year?" Blaise asked casually.  
  
Harry started. That was the first thing Blaise had said to him on the entire tour that wasn't a dry recitation of what was in each room.  
  
She had quietly given Harry a tour of the townhouse that was her home. What surprised Harry the most was how ordinary the home was. He expected either something darker and more in keeping with the stereotypes of a vampire or something like a wizard's home -- filled with magic and moving pictures.  
  
Instead it was a rather ordinary house that any muggle might be proud to call home. It was filled with all the amenities of a normal house and none of the accoutrements of either magic or royalty.  
  
Harry was a little disappointed  
  
"I'm not that worried about Owls." Harry laughed. "Hermione will have a schedule worked out for me and Ron to study to by the end of summer."  
  
Blaise nodded. "Granger is a good student. Father gets irritated when she gets better marks than I do." Blaise Zabini was known to be one of the top witches of her year, beaten only by Hermione Granger and Padma Patil.  
  
"She can be irritating." Harry agreed, thinking of the many years of kind hearted nagging he had experienced at Hermione's hands.  
  
"This is the last stop." Blaise stopped in front of a door. She threw open the door and guided Harry into the room.  
  
Or more exactly her room.  
  
Draco Malfoy would call Blaise Zabini's room 'disturbingly muggle'. Her furniture was polished antique cherry wood. She had a vanity with a variety of muggle cosmetics. Even a TV and a number of videos and DVD's were scattered around the room.  
  
Blaise took a seat on the bed. She patted the spot next to her invitingly and Harry obliged.  
  
"We should talk." She began.  
  
"Why? I'm not going to marry you." Even to his own ears it sounded blunt. Blaise flinched a little and Harry thought he detected some hurt in her face.  
  
"Would it really be so bad?" Blaise asked. "I am a pretty girl," She said unselfconsciously, "and you are rather attractive yourself. It wouldn't be much of a hardship."  
  
Harry was rocked. Blaise was pretty and he did need the training...  
  
NO!  
  
It wasn't possible. It wasn't right. This marriage was never going to happen. Besides he liked Fleur, even if she did rebuff him.  
  
He reached up and rubbed his temple. This was all too much. Vampires, necromancers, veela's, GIRLS. It was all just...too damn much.  
  
"Why would you want to do this?" Harry asked. "You don't know me. You certainly don't love me. Why would you want to be stuck with me?"  
  
Blaise gave a slow, sad smile. "I don't have the luxury of entering a marriage for love, Harry. And frankly neither do you." She turned to face the boy who lived. "I am vampire royalty...or at least half vampire royalty. My father enjoys slumming with pretty young pure bloods and he happed to get my mother -- Ximera Zabini pregnant. Being pure-blooded with more breeding than money, she gave up custody to my father in exchange for a generous stipend."  
  
Harry patted her on the knee. Staring at the gesture of comfort like it was a glyph from an alien sign language, Blaise continued. "The only reason my father bothered to take care of me is that I would be a vulnerability he can't afford. My father has lots of enemies within the vampire clans and outside of the clans. He needed to protect his blood...even if I am a girl."  
  
"I still don't get why you want to marry me."  
  
Blaise shrugged. "You're my best option. Vampire women don't choose who they marry. Our society is a patriarchal one and as a half-vampire I don't exactly have a lot of marital value. You would make a good husband...better than whatever true blood vampire I would be saddled with if you say no."  
  
"I am going to say no. I did say no."  
  
"Don't." Blaise's voice wasn't pleading. There was less dignity in it than that. There was a need in her voice that transcended pleading. It was insistent. Powerful. "I know this is hard since you haven't been prepared for it your whole life like I have, but we make sense Harry."  
  
A single sexy slither later and she neatly invaded Harry's personal space. Tracing a burning path along Harry's jaw line with a single pale finger she whispered. "I would be a good wife to you Harry. Vampires bind their spouses with blood and magic. I would be obedient, dutiful, faithful... fruitful. We could bring back the Potter's as a family to be reckoned with. And you would definitely enjoy the process." Her hand trailed lower and she breathed in his ear. "Vampire women are well trained in certain... arts. I could be persuaded to... begin the honeymoon early."  
  
Harry was having a hard time thinking.  
  
_I like Fleur.  
  
No, really.  
  
I **like** Fleur.  
_  
Blaise's hands were working evil... and enjoyable vampire magic on Harry's underused regions. Vampires were supposed to be cold, but Blaise burned like her namesake. She lowered her lips to his pulse point and began to suck.  
  
_I'm letting a vampire kiss my neck.  
  
I've obviously gone mental.  
_  
Trailing feather light kisses along his neck Blaise eventually found a hollow in his neck and she focused all her attention on that particular spot. She kissed and nibbled, attracted by the steady pulse that radiated through his neck.  
  
"Uhh..." Harry moaned. Growing aroused, Harry threw caution to the wind and flipped Blaise over. Pinning her arms above her head with one hand, Harry began to kiss the half vampire back with enthusiasm. Trusting his instincts, the boy who lived began to deposit his own kisses along Blaise. His other hand slipped under her blouse and started to trace a path along her taut belly.  
  
Soon he wasn't the only one moaning.  
  
Then Harry screamed  
  
"Uhh... owww!"  
  
Harry rolled away from Blaise and pushed her onto her haunches. "What the hell did you do?"  
  
Blaise crouched at the edge of the bed, balancing on her hands and feet like a jungle predator. Her eyes were bloodshot, tiny rings of gold surrounding her irises. Pink lips smeared slightly with coppery scented blood decorated her mouth and a pair of tiny, ivory sharp fangs curved over her lower lips.  
  
"Bloody hell! Sirius was right." Harry went for his wand but faster than he could believe Blaise caught his hand.  
  
"No," She lisped plaintively. "Don't. I'm sorry."  
  
Harry relaxed and Blaise let go of his hand. Harry flexed his wrist. Blaise was strong. Even given his enhanced strength, she had easily held down his hand.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said again. Harry could see her fangs retract. "Your pulse... it called to me. I didn't mean to bite you. I swear. Please don't tell my father."  
  
Harry touched his neck and came away with blood. "Merlin, Blaise. Do I need another bloody reason not to want to marry you?"  
  
"Come here." She moved towards Harry and he took an involuntary step backwards. "I can fix your neck," she said patiently. "So come here!" she snapped sounding more like the icy Slytherin Harry knew and less like the needy girl he had just seen.  
  
Harry stepped forward and Blaise again got very close to him. She cocked her neck and brought her lips down on the wound. Her pale tongue licked across the wound lightly.  
  
Harry could feel the neck scrape tingle and then seal up.  
  
Blaise stepped back, her eyes back to their normal blue. She smiled. "What vampires do, they can undo."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
They were quiet, uncomfortable for several moments before Blaise spoke again. "We would make a great couple. A powerful couple."  
  
"That's a cold way of looking at things. It's a... "  
  
"... Slytherin way of looking at things?" Blaise finished with a sad smile.  
  
Harry smiled. "Well yeah. I want more than a marriage that makes sense politically, Blaise. I want love. Happiness. The only real thing I know about my parents is that they loved each other and were happy together. I want that too."  
  
Blaise nodded sadly. "I do understand Harry. And for what it's worth, I hope you find it."  
  
Harry avoided looking at the Slytherin girl directly. "I'm sorry Blaise."  
  
"For what?" the young Slytherin seemed confused.  
  
"I got carried away with the..." And Harry motioned to the bed sheepishly. "I've never done anything like that before. It was good... amazing, really, but I don't want to lead you on."  
  
Blaise quirked a smile that showed true joy for the first time all afternoon. "Harry, it takes more than a little snog and bite to lead me on. And if you want to do that more often..." Her voice trailed off suggestively  
  
Harry smiled. "Thanks, but no." He thumbed his finger at the door. "I should...umm...go."  
  
Blaise grew quiet and sad again. "I guess so."  
  
Harry walked towards the door but stopped when Blaise's voice rung out again.  
  
"Harry."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You're a pretty good snog." Blaise said smiling.

* * *

_Somewhere in Romania_  
  
Ginny Weasley carefully unwrapped the package her Ravenclaw friend Amanda Hollingsworth sent her.  
  
The wrapping was black paper tied with simple string. Eagerly Ginny tore through the paper to reach inside. She pulled from the torn paper- a thin black book entitled _Amour D'Ombre._  
  
"Perfect." She whispered to herself. Amanda's father worked in a pawnshop that was located on Knockturn Alley. When Ginny complained about Harry never noticing her, Amanda told her that she knew a book in her dad's shop that could help.  
  
Ginny had dug into her small savings and got the galleons together that she needed and sent the money to Amanda who bought the book and sent it back to her.  
  
The youngest Weasley held the slender book in shaking hands. This could be it. She could finally get Harry Potter to notice her. The boy who lived would stop seeing her as Ron's little sister and as girlfriend material.  
  
She flipped through the book and noted that everything was written in French. Ginny frowned. She would have to look up a translation spell once she got to Hogwarts. She wasn't looking forward to it. Translation spells were really hard to master because of the way the brain understands language.  
  
But it would be worth it.  
  
Ginny flung herself backwards onto her bed and hugged the book of love magic close to her chest. It would be so great to be Harry's girlfriend and someday his wife. He would be part of the family for real. Her mum would be ecstatic. Harry was already another son in her heart and to have him actually become one...  
  
Harry was the champion who saved the princess from the depredations of a great evil. It was only right that he take as his wife the princess. That was the way the stories all go.  
  
It was the way her story was going to go  
  
Even if she had to charm Harry to get him to understand.  
  
Ginny Potter was disturbed from her thoughts by her mother knocking at the door.  
  
"Ginny, dear, clean up your room. Hermione is going to be coming in a few days so when we go back to headquarters she can come with us."  
  
"Alright, Mother." Ginny called back irritably. She swiftly went back to her pleasant daydream where she and Harry were on a picnic by the edge of the lake at Hogwarts and all of the other girls were staring at her jealously. She sighed dreamily.  
  
One way or another, Harry Potter was going to be hers... 


	8. Birthday Wishes and Birthday Kisses

Casting- Hermione Granger...Emma Watson Ginny Weasley...Lindsay Lohan  
Blaise Zabini...Kiera Knightly Fleur Delacour...Valeria Mazza  
Sirius Black...Clive Owen

This is an unbeta'd version of Ch 8 that I want to get up for everyone to read. The Beta'd version will be up in a few days

Chapter 8- Birthday Wishes and Birthday Kisses

* * *

_"You will regret not taking my offer young Harry."  
  
"Possibly."  
  
"You have until the end of the year Harry, to...revise your decision."_

* * *

Harry's uncle Vernon had a saying that he used to use all the time. 'Makes sense on paper'. Vernon Dursley always said it in a satisfied tone whenever he completed a deal for his company. Harry never really got the phrase until he came back from the vampire kings home.  
  
Then it made painful sense  
  
The vampire's deal did make sense on paper. Harry did need the training. He needed the protection that being married to a vampire princess could afford. The king would do anything to protect his daughter and his investment. As his uncle would say, it made all sorts of sense on paper, but Harry held back from agreeing. He wasn't going to allow himself to be forced into doing something just because it made good sense politically or magically.  
  
What confused him even more was Blaise. The pretty Slytherin had amply demonstrated that she would be willing to go along with anything Harry had suggested. Harry spent the days after his meeting with the girl deeply confused. He couldn't understand why she was so willing. The idea of an arranged marriage was so foreign to him, he didn't really get how anyone could just be okay with that sort of thing. But , sometimes he found himself wondering if it would really be all that bad if he just gave up and agreed. Blaise seemed nice enough and wasn't his life already complicated enough without adding dating to mix? Maybe marriage would be a relief. Take a weight off his back and allow him to focus on other things.  
  
But then, what about Fleur?  
  
He cared for the veela medic. He thought she was an amazing, beautiful, and kind person. She stayed with him when she could have been anywhere else. She shared parts of her life with him that he knew she didn't tell just anyone.  
  
Then there was her quiet elegance that was deeply attractive to Harry. She was smart and skilled at magic, she had traveled around the globe in both muggle and magical circles. She spoke a number of foreign languages and classy and graceful.  
  
And totally out of his league.  
  
She had made that abundantly clear when he talked with her that she wanted some older, with more experience at life and love.  
  
Blaise was just as attractive to Harry, just in a different way. She commanded her sexuality and sensuality in a way the veela did not. There was something almost intimidating about Fleur and the perfection of her features. Blaise was less perfect, but at the same time more in command of her own carnal nature. Harry always got the impression that Fleur was holding back, like she was afraid of unleashing something too powerful to control.  
  
Blaise clearly had no such problem.  
  
Sometimes Harry could still feel Blaise's lips on his and the press of her hands and the scent of her hair still caused him to tingle when he imagined them. Blaise was just that, a blaze of passion that surprised Harry with its intensity.  
  
Of course brooding over women is not a full time job-even for a teenage boy so Harry found other things to occupy his mind.  
  
The Order of the Phoenix met several times while Harry was present. At least all of the order members that weren't on secret missions for Dumbledore. Harry of course wasn't invited to the meetings which infuriated him, but Sirius was always available to give him the highlights so he wasn't totally left out.  
  
Apparently Fleur's spell had weakened Voldemort more than they had originally thought. Snape--who was working as a spy for Dumbledore-- reported that he had lain in bed for three days after Fleur's exorcism and could not use magic for another two days. However, the protections and rituals that he had woven about himself made it impossible to assassinate him even with his weakness so they could not fully exploit his recuperation.  
  
Voldemort was using his convalescence to put into motion several of his lesser plans-of which Snape knew little because of his status as a potion maker for Voldemort did not always grant him access to the most secret meetings. Sirius didn't tell Harry whether or not they were able to figure what those plans were.  
  
When he wasn't trying to pry information from the order Harry spent a good deal of time in the Black library looking for the cloning formula and scouring the floors for any information on necromancers.  
  
He learned a lot about the sorts of powers he should have when he was 'matured' but nothing on how to train them.  
  
He would be able to command and destroy the living dead—vampires, skeletons other undead, and perhaps most importantly Dementors. He would be able to kill and heal with an ease that will startle other wizards even to the point of restoring life to the recently dead. There were reams of spells and rituals that would allow him to contact and even manipulate the realm of the dead. His physical abilities will continue to grow as him magical abilities matured although they won't obviously manifest by making Harry suddenly gain the muscles and size of an ogre. Harry remembered the terrible strength the Voldemort had exhibited despite his pale and wasted appearance. Clearly his physical abilities weren't going to turn him into an Adonis over night-if ever.  
  
Harry did not spend all his time in the library studying. Harry also spent a lot of time dueling with Sirius on the upper floors of Black Manor. Harry's skills at competitive professional dueling grew by leaps and bounds.  
  
Others also took up dueling when they could and showed Harry some pointers. Kinglsey Shacklebolt was a dueler of awesome power—as someone of his rank and stature should be—and when he stopped by the orders headquarters he took the time to show Harry some auror tricks. Some of them applied only to dueling for your life and not for sport but a number of the shields and casting shortcuts helped Harry to learn how to speed up his spell hurling.  
  
Tonks showed Harry the power of offensive transfiguration in dueling. A well placed puddle of water or conjured orb of snow could completely ruin a persons concentration and make it easy to score a point or two. The clumsy and fun-loving auror showed a different aspect of her personality on the strip. She transformed into a duelist with a calm and confident mien that didn't show at any other time. She explained that she was so good in transfiguration because metamorphmaguses need strong visualization skills to change their appearance.  
  
Moody was simply the best duelist Harry had ever seen. The quintessential English duelist as mocked by Fleur, Moody was all business and had absolutely no flair for artistry. He simply threw hailstorms of spells—including real hailstorms occasionally. For man over one hundred years of age Moody had phenomenal reflexes. He was able to throw a chain of spells by linking the command words together, which made the spells difficult to block or dodge although slower to cast. His vast experience being on the receiving end of a variety of dueling spells allowed him to sense what spell a person was going to use next merely by the slightest shifts in stance and wand motions so he was able to throw up the most effective shield for almost any given spell with a frequency that bordered on prescience.  
  
Moody showed Harry how to link spell words together in order to cast multiple spells at the same time, but Harry was only able to perform the spell chain with the most basic spells like creating light and levitating small objects. Moody explained that it took decades to master the concentration needed for more potent spells.  
  
Easily the most awkward of Harry's dueling partners was Fleur. Relations had been strained between the pretty veela and Boy-Who-Lived ever since the encounter in the garden. They had lost the formerly easy way of speaking and flirting with each other and now spent time together embroiled in awkward silences She avoided Harry at every turn, pleading mounds of work from Madam Pomfry when Harry tried to talk to her.  
  
She could not however avoid dueling practice with Harry. After soundly beating Sirius, Harry's godfather pressed her into service to show Harry some French tactics on the dueling strip. Fleur reluctantly stepped onto the strip and showed Harry a number of spells and conjurations as well as the tactics that made the most of them. She was a skilled teacher despite the awkwardness of their lessons and Harry improved under her tutelage and even developed a dueling flair all his own.  
  
Harry did not spend every moment studying and dueling. He finished his summer work and lounged by the heated black pool in addition to flying every day. Sirius showed him the spells that altered the pools dimensions so Harry could do laps and have fun.  
  
Overall this was turning out to be the best summer of Harry's short life.

* * *

The morning of Harry's birthday started well enough. He got up early and went for a swim. His necromancer enhanced physical powers allowed him to swim dozens of laps with only the slightest fatigue. Leaving the pool Harry made his way to his bedroom a bounce in his step. Today Ron and Hermione were coming to spend the rest of summer at Black Manor and Harry was excited.  
  
He hadn't heard from any of his friends and wasn't able to send them any mail because of what had happened to Hedwig. A tiny knot of ice formed in his stomach as he thought about what he should tell them.  
  
Harry knew that Ron would flip if he heard that Harry had absorbed some of Voldemort's power. His redheaded friend was loyal but he was also short- tempered and impetuous. There was no telling how he would react aside from the reaction would be a bad one.  
  
Hermione on the other hand was perfectly predicable. She would stare at Harry with maddeningly understanding eyes and then lock herself in the library to do research until she totally understood a necromancers powers and then explain them to Harry in an infuriatingly slow voice. All the while asking Harry an ever increasing series of personal questions.  
  
Harry walked into his private bathroom and started to strip. A vocal command caused the claw footed marble tub to begin filling with steaming water. Harry was about step in the tub when he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror and stopped stunned.  
  
_Wow_  
  
Harry hadn't really thought about the physical changes Dumbledore said would happen to him. Between his problems with fleur and vampires who wanted to marry him he had enough on his mind without thinking about his new-and untrained-powers. Beside he figured that his magic would change him all that much since he read that necromancers experience few overt physical changes so this was the first time that Harry had really looked at himself and saw the body that his magic, swimming, and dueling practices had wrought.  
  
And they were some pretty amazing changes. The first thing Harry noticed was his height. Harry had in past few weeks shot up four inches to height of five foot nine inches. Not tall, but a good size and definitely much taller than he had been just a few short weeks ago. At least he was still the proper size for a seeker which was fine because something internal told Harry that he wasn't going to get any taller. Although his arms and legs were still slender and fine-bones that Sirius said he got from his mother, lines of muscles traced along his limbs and veins stood out against his skin in sharp relief giving him a more muscular look. His shoulders were broader, his waist trim, and his stomach flat and toned. He was still not a large person by any means-not even as big as his father-but the scrawny boy looked to be forever gone.  
  
Harry smiled and turned this way and that way admiring the play of muscles beneath his skin. Maybe he would have a chance with Fleur after all.

* * *

Harry went down for breakfast and ran into one of the sexiest sights he had ever seen outside of a dirty magazine Seamus had smuggled in once.  
  
Fleur eating grapes.  
  
Fleur sat at the kitchen table eating the small fruit one at a time. First she delicately plucked the grape and deposited it on her pinkish tongue which retracted back into her mouth. Her lips pursed as sucked the pulp out of the fruits skin and then her throat jiggled slightly to vanish the skin and meat. One final lick of her lips cleared any extraneous juices. What made it more amazing was that she seemed to have no idea what she looked like as she ate. It was completely subconscious.  
  
_That's...That's just... mean  
_  
Harry sat down at the table and started to get his own plate of fruit. Fleur's presence had change the diet of everyone living at Black Manor. Gone were the heavy English breakfasts and lunches. In its place were a variety of light foods and croissants along with some light breakfast wines that Fleur had brought with her from France. No one was quite sure how the food choices had changed but anyone who thought about just figured that it was her veela nature. After all, the fey creatures were know to get their way in most things.  
  
"'Appy Birthday 'Arry." Fleur said smiling. After delivering her greeting she went back to eating grapes with unconscious seduction.  
  
"Hi Fleur."  
  
The pair lapsed into uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Your friends will be 'ere soon." Fleur said pleasantly, to fill the conversation gap. "Ronald and...and..."  
  
"Hermione." Harry supplied.  
  
Fleur nodded. "'Ermione. Zat iz right. She iz zee one that woman said 'ad bewitched you with an _amore faux_ potion."  
  
"That's not true. Hermione and I are just friends." Harry answered annoyed. How much damage was Rita Skeeter going to do to him with those damn articles of hers.  
  
Fleur made a dismissing motion with her hands. "I did not zink so. I waz merely zaying."  
  
They sat and ate in silence until Sirius burst in. "The Weasleys are going to be here soon. Molly just fire called." The ex criminal bounced around the kitchen resembling nothing more than a giant puppy.  
  
"Calm down Sirius!" Harry laughed. "It's just the Weasley's and Hermione."  
  
"But this is your first real birthday." Sirius answered, "and I want to make up for the lack of birthdays so far in your life."  
  
Harry smiled at his godfather as he got up from the table to join Sirius in the floo room of the mansion. So entranced was he by his godfather, he didn't notice the furrow of worry that crawled across Fleur's face.

* * *

The Floo room of Black manor was a small room that had an enormous fireplace built into the far wall. It dominated the otherwise bare room. Floo powder and soot covered the walls and floor of the room so Harry and others kicked small clouds into the air as they entered. Miraculously Fleur's snow white robe remained unstained.  
  
Harry had just stepped through the doorway when they fire flashed emerald and the Weasley's began tumbling through one by one.  
  
Ron was the first. His large body tumbled out of the green fire and he caught himself right before he fell to the ground.  
  
"Oi, Harry." He called. Ron stretched to his full height. His eyes widened as he got his first good look at his friend in almost two months. "Merlin, what's Sirius feeding you? You've shot up five inches."  
  
"Three actually." Harry corrected dryly. "Still have a long way to go before I catch up to you."  
  
Ron shrugged bashfully but Harry was only being truthful. Ron had gotten a lot bigger. He also had grown about three inches during the break, putting him over six feet tall. He had also gained about twenty pounds of muscle. With the darkly tanned skin he got from working outside and the strong jaw that revealed itself when the last traces of youthful fat had evaporated Ron resembled his brother Bill more than ever. He even wore his hair in a small ponytail that was tied back by a dragon hide thong.  
  
The two friends gave each other a one-armed man hug that involved a lot of back slapping.  
  
"Honestly you two. It's okay to act like you missed each other." Hermione Granger's voice rung out. The next person to pop out of the Floo she watched with endless amusement as Harry and Ron greeted each other with typical masculine reserve.  
  
The two friends looked at each other and smiled. "I dunno," Ron began. "You know I'm not really all that fond of you, don't you Harry."  
  
Harry smiled at his best friend. "I feel the same way mate."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation but smiled and came over to give Harry a hug. "I'm sorry about your relatives Harry." She whispered softly.  
  
"Mione, you promised you wouldn't harassed him about that stuff." Ron rolled his eyes at his best female friend. "Mate, all week she's been on about you and what happened. I told her you would tell us what happened when you wanted too." Ron's expression turned anxious. "That'll be tonight right?"  
  
Harry was about to respond when a ginger colored blur attacked him. "Harry birthday Harry." Ginny whispered. She clung to Harry for a while before reluctantly letting him go.  
  
"Whoa gin." Harry said as he got a good look at the littlest Weasley. She had grown quite pretty over summer. "you look different." Ginny blushed as stepped away from Harry.  
  
The twins stepped out of the fire next. Moving as one they threw their arms around Harry and drug him away from Ginny.  
  
"Harry" One, probably George whispered  
  
"Stop" the other, probably Fred continued.  
  
"getting fresh"  
  
"With"  
  
"Our"  
  
"Sister!" they both finished in a fierce whisper.  
  
"you two get away from him this instant." Molly Weasley's shrill voice caused both twins to blanch and drop their arms. She grabbed Harry in a tight hug. "How have you been dear? I would have come straight away but I thought it was good to stay out of the country for a while," she fretted. "I can just imagine what kind of trouble you've been getting into with just Sirius for company."  
  
Sirius put on a mock hurt face. "Molly you wound me. Don't you think I'm a good influence on him."  
  
"I think he's a better influence on you." She replied with an arched eyebrow.  
  
While Molly and Sirius debated his level of responsibility Harry swiftly greeted Arthur Weasley and Charlie. Mr. Weasley looked the same as ever with the exception of deeper circles beneath his eyes. Charlie on the other hand, despite having shaved and showered still looked like he had just gone three rounds with a dragon. Deep claw marks and old scars crisscrossed his arms and even a few small burn welts dotted his forearms. They both greeted Harry with enthusiasm.  
  
The last person to come through the floo connection was Bill Weasley. The tall curse breaker shook out his ponytail and made his way over to Harry.  
  
"Happy Birthday Harry." He started out smiling. "I think you'll li-". He stopped and stared at Fleur, who stayed at the edge of the group, out of the way as everyone greeted Harry. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened his mouth and began to speak "Uhh...Hi Fleur."  
  
"'ello Bill." She replied quietly.

* * *

"So what's with your brother and Fleur? Harry asked Ron quietly. He, Hermione, and Ron sat beneath the shade of a tree near the pool of Black Manor. Ron and Harry wore swimming trunks and Hermione lounged near them in a conservative blue bikini. The trio stuck close to each other as they always had while they watched everyone enjoy the party.  
  
Sirius was chasing Ginny around the edge of the pool in dog form. When she dove in to avoid the Animagus criminal, Sirius didn't hesitate in jumping in after her and dog paddling towards her, long tongue extended.  
  
Remus sat near Molly and Arthur as the three talked quietly about ministry policies.  
  
Fleur lay on her back as she sunned herself in a brief French-cut bikini. Most of the men in the group watched the part veela as she lathered a sun protection potion on her skin. Even mad-eye Moody's magical eye managed to stay focused on fleur as she lavished attention on her slender legs. Bill sat nearby trying to talk to the veela but it was clear that she was not paying attention.  
  
To his credit Percy was not one of the people watching Fleur. He only had eyes for his girlfriend and it was easy to see why. Tonks wore a string bikini and had morphed her body into a perfect beach physique. She had also inflated her breasts to ridiculous proportions while talking to Percy. Or at least she was attempting to hold a conversation. Invariably his gaze would drop below her face and he would begin having a very serious discussion with her chest. She would let it go one for a while before she laughed and tipped his red face back to her eyes. Where it would stay for a few moments before dropping back down.  
  
Ron shook his head as he watched the byplay. "Tonks is mental. Still can't understand why she's dating Percy. I mean he's a git and she's...well she's just cool." He shook his head.  
  
"Maybe she thinks opposites attract." Hermione said, a tinge of color in her cheeks.  
  
Ron snorted, completely missing Hermione's expression. "opposites don't attract Mione. That's just some mental girlie idea. Real life doesn't happen like that." Ron finished with vast authority.  
  
Hermione dropped her gaze and Harry shook his head at Ron's obliviousness. "Back to the point, Ron. Bill and Fleur."  
  
"Not much to say really." Ron started. "She and Bill saw each other right at the beginning of summer for a while. They seemed to like each other. He even brought her over to the house to meet mum once."  
  
Harry stomach dropped and twisted into a knot.  
  
"Then all of a sudden they stopped seeing each other. Bill never said what had changed but she stopped coming around for her 'English lessons'." Ron sighed dreamily. "Let me tell you that accent is...ouch!" Ron rubbed his arm where she smacked him. "What was that for Hermione?"  
  
"Nothing." The only female member of the trio crossed her arms with a very self-satisfied look on her face and turned to Harry. "Why do you want to know about Fleur and Bill. You don't like her do you? Because that would be wrong since she's older than you and sort-of a member of the staff at Hogwarts and I think it might be against some wizarding laws an-  
  
"Calm down Hermione. And keep your voice down." Harry muttered as he looked around to make sure that no one heard them . "I don't like-like Fleur but we've kinda become friends. I just wanted to know cause she looked uncomfortable." Merlin! Couldn't the girl leave anything alone?  
  
"Oh." Hermione looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Good because that would be a bad idea. I read that veela's are really bad magical creatures and there are all sorts of stories about them bewitching wizards and making them pine away-"  
  
"_All right_ HERMIONE." Harry said through his teeth. "I get the picture. It would be a bad idea to date Fleur." He looked away. "Not like I would have a real chance anyway," he muttered bitterly Harry watched as Fleur got up from where she lounged by the pool and put a wrap around her waist before heading inside the manor. Bill got up to follow her.  
  
Harry stood up. Without looking that the other members of the trio he muttered distracted, "I'm going to get a drink. Be back in a while."  
  
Ron watched his friend in amusement. "Doesn't like Fleur. Come on, who does he think he's fooling." The red-haired boy shook his head sadly. "Must think we're thick or something."

* * *

Harry went inside Black Manor and began looking for Fleur and Bill. Harry was just worried for Fleur because she and Bill seemed to have some unresolved issues.  
  
_Liar  
_  
It wasn't long before Harry head voices coming from the kitchen. Furthermore one seemed to be cursing in French.  
  
As Harry crept closer he was able to make out the voices. He stayed far enough away so that he could dart around the corner if they came out.  
  
"...can't we pick up...left off...working for the order...Gringots...was sorry for before."  
  
Harry moved closer.  
  
"No Bill. I zink it iz too late for picking up where we left off. I 'ave my studies which will keep me busy."  
  
"That's not it, is it." Bills voice was plaintive and soft. "You've met someone else haven't you."  
  
"No..." Fleur voice trailed off. "...maybe. I do not know. Things, zey are confusing now."  
  
Harry could hear Bill step over to Fleur and the rustle of clothes. It seemed like He was embracing the veela.  
  
"It doesn't have to be complicated. You and I were good together and mum liked you."  
  
"Bill..."  
  
Fleur's soft voice cut through Harry's heart. He couldn't stay to listen to the rest. He stumbled to the stairs. He had no desire to go back outside and talk with Ron and Hermione. Pretending to care about all the questions they would ask him just seemed too draining right now.  
  
Harry headed to his room rubbing his head. Why did his head hurt so much? Harry threw himself on his bed. What made him think that he could ever have competed with someone like Bill with cool hair, interesting job, and a lifetime of experience he didn't have. Harry lay on his bed his angry growing.  
  
_How dare HE!  
  
How dare Bill go after the woman He wanted._  
  
Black rage filled Harry. He could feel the dark spells the coated the walls of Black Manor. He pictured Bills freckled face in the vanity mirror across from him. Bill looked to be smirking at him. Mocking him for not being man enough for Fleur.  
  
_How dare HE!  
_  
Harry jumped up and a school book jumped into his hand. Without thinking Harry flung the book into Bills smirk. With a crash the mirror shattered and the eldest weasley's face melted into nothingness. Harry stared at his own fractured reflection and the rage drained away.  
  
"I cannot imagine what that mirror ever did to you, Harry?" Albus Dumbledore walked into Harry's room. "I came to wish you a happy birthday and I find you destroying property." With a flick of his wand Dumbledore caused the mirror pieces to jump back into the frame and fix itself. "Why were you so angry Harry."  
  
Harry sat down and the old headmaster joined him in a conjured seat. "I'm not sure." Harry looked up at Dumbledore. "I...uhh...heard something that made me kinda upset. I came up here and then all of a sudden I was just so angry. I was thinking such ugly things." Harry shook his head. "I just lost control."  
  
"Was it like the time before, Harry? When you heard about your relatives?" When Harry nodded, Dumbledore lightly touched Harry's face and stared at his eyes.  
  
Harry felt the prick of something behind his eyelids. Wet and silky, it was like something was crawling through his mind. He started to shudder and tried to force the searching presence out. Finally it retracted.  
  
Dumbledore looked tried. Grayness tainted his skin and it hung slack on his face. "Your mind is starting to weaken Harry. Whatever power you absorbed from Voldemort, it gets stronger when you're angry. It is imperative you control your emotions Harry." The elderly wizard leaned back and sighed. "A part of me wishes that you would accept the vampires offer. Their mental training could stand you in good stead while you integrated these new powers into your consciousness. However I do understand and respect your decision. In truth I never expected otherwise."  
  
"What am I going to do professor?"  
  
Albus Dumbledore rubbed his temple. "I will begin your occulomacy training as soon as we get back to school. I do not have time now and the only other qualified Occulmens is Professor Snape." He smiled. "Something tells me you would not want further instructions from him."  
  
Harry shuddered. "No sir."  
  
"for now I will artificially shore up your mind with a rather advanced spell." Dumbledore drew his wand and tapped his head three times on the right temple while muttering. On the third tap the wand lit up with silvery light and he then tapped the wand three time on Harry's right temple while muttering _Creo Cogito Saepire_ each time.  
  
Each strike sent slivers of mental ice into Harry's thoughts. He could almost visualize a wall of ice surrounding a ball of black light that represented Voldemort's power.  
  
"Done. That should provide some time for you to create some defenses of your own." Dumbledore peered at Harry over his bifocals. "I must stress the importance of keeping your temper at all times Harry. Especially at school. Placing barriers in the mind of another's is always a difficult thing, especially when dealing with a mind as stubborn as your own." The headmaster smiled. "On a more pleasant note, the reason why I came here today-besides birthday wishes-was to give you Hogwarts letter personally, which you can open later and to deliver a present a certain half-vampire wished you to have." Dumbledore pulled out a small package and a letter. "I would advise to open it in private. "Miss Zabini seemed most emphatic about its personal nature."  
  
Harry flushed and put the package beneath his pillow. As the pair got up to move downstairs he spoke hesitantly. "Professor, I was thinking about what you said before...about taking my studies more seriously. I was wondering if I could take Ancient Runes and Arithmancy and drop Care of Magical Creatures and Divination? Hermione would be more than happy to tutor me so I could catch up."  
  
"Are you sure Harry? I make no promises about special training just because your taking harder classes."  
  
"I'm not asking about that sir. I just think that you were right and I could learn some important things. Voldemort is coming and I want to be ready." Harry walked out the door and down the hall leaving Dumbledore looking slightly pensive behind. Slowly that pensive looked turned into a smile and Dumbledore rushed to catch up to the Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

The birthday party moved indoors and after a filling meal courtesy of Mrs.Weasley everyone gathered around the table to watch Harry open presents. Harry stared with wide eyes at all the smiling faces around him and felt warm inside. The anger from earlier seemed like a distant memory.  
  
"All of you..." Harry began. "...I've never had a real birthday before. This...This..." His voice began to fail and he wiped furiously at his eyes to prevent him from crying in front of everyone. "Thank you." Harry finally managed to choke out.  
  
Mrs. Weasley hugged the Boy-Who-Lived from behind. "Think nothing of it Harry," She whispered. "We're all so glad to be here with you on your first real birthday party."  
  
Harry sat staring at the pile of gifts unsure about which one to unwrap first. "Just Pick one mate. Don't worry, you get to keep all of 'em." Ron joked.  
  
Laughing Harry agreed and grabbed a gift at random and started to open it.  
  
From Mr. and Mrs. Weasley Harry received an emerald green Weasley sweater and a tin of homemade fudge.  
  
From Ron he got a Chudley Cannons Tee-shirt and a book called _Chudley Cannons-A History_.  
  
Hermione got him a book on Apparation. "I know we won't be able apparate for ages yet, but the theory is fascinating." She explained.  
  
"How did you get that Hermione?" Percy asked. "Shops aren't supposed to sell apparation books to underage wizards."  
  
Hermione Grangers face reddened slightly. "I...uhh...gotmyfathertobuyitforme," she said in a rush. "He didn't know it was illegal." At everyone's surprised look she got defensive. "What, I break rules too you know." Hermione said in a huff.  
  
With much eye rolling Harry opened his next few presents. Charlie got him an all new set of dragon hide potion-crafting robes.  
  
One of the coolest presents was from Bill who got him a knife that specialized in potion ingredient cutting-and occasionally whispered hints about how to make most common potions.  
  
"Perfectly legal," Bill assured him when Harry asked if he could use it in potions class. "I used to be head Boy so I know all the loopholes."  
  
Thanking Bill profusely, Harry opened Percy and Tonks gift next. It was a book entitled _So you_ _want ace your OWLs_. Harry thanked the pair but didn't look overly enthused about his gift. When Percy wasn't looking Tonks told Harry to tap the first page with his wand. When he did it, a new page appeared entitled, _So you might be a metamorphmagus_.  
  
"I heard about you never needing a haircut." Tonks said mysteriously at his questioning look. "Make sure you read that later," Tonks continued in a soft voice. "If you have any questions, owl me."  
  
Looking confused Harry merely nodded. Hagrid's gift was a tin of inedible candy and a cool pair of dragonhide boots.  
  
Ginny's gift turned out to be a beautiful spiral rune wrought in silver hung on a delicate chain. When Harry touched it he could feel slight warmth coming from the warm. It just itched to be worn, so thinking nothing of the gift Harry slipped it over his head where he could feel the runes heat warming his chest.  
  
"Can I see that Harry?" Hermione leaned forward and fingered the rune, tracing its complicated spirals with her finger. Nodding to herself she looked at Ginny and smiled slightly.  
  
All she said though was, "that's a pretty necklace."  
  
The twins gave Harry a box of fireworks that they said that they'll light when it got dark. A little later they took him off to the side and said they were making him a partner in their new mail order company. When he refused they threatened to force feed him their experimental candies until he relented.  
  
Which he did.  
  
Remus and Sirius gave him their present in private. It was a small leather diary that contained all information the marauders gathered on becoming an Animagus. Harry thanked the last two marauders profusely.  
  
Easily the most moving of the gifts he received was from Fleur. The last present he opened was a book delicately wrapped paper with a blue satin sheen. Harry opened the package which revealed a book entitled Potent Charms For All Occasions. A little confused Harry thanked Fleur.  
  
The veela smiled. "Open zee front cover 'Arry."  
  
Harry opened the front cover and stared at the note written on the inside cover of the book. It was written in loopy, flowing, and feminine script.  
  
_Marie, I just had to send you this copy when it came in. Can you believe they're publishing some of the charms I invented while in France? I am so excited! Thank you for allowing me to stay with you during my Charms apprenticeship. Your friendship meant everything to me while I was away from James. You know how I was telling you before about my worries? Well guess what, I don't have anymore worries about that anymore because I have the greatest news! It's a good thing I'm getting paid for these charms because I'm pregnant! James and I would love for you to be the baby's godmother. The godfather is going to be one of James good school friends and just between us I'm going to need all the help I can get with those two. You know how James is. Well, Sirius is even worse. Although cute. I'll see about setting you up next time you visit. Owl back soon.  
  
Love,  
  
Lily  
_  
Harry looked up from the inscription eyes glittering with tears. "Fleur...I..."  
  
"Your mother did her apprenticeship at Beauxbeaton. Unfortunately your mother's friend Marie was killed before you were born by You-Know-Who. My Charm's professor taught your mother and her friend together and still had this copy in zee library there. When I owled her about your birthday she zent this back immediately with her fondest wishes."  
  
"Thank you Fleur." Harry finally whispered.

* * *

Fleur Delacour watched the twin's fireworks from the safety of her room on the second floor. Everyone else was outside in the warm summer air where the view of the twin's hard work was better, but Fleur had wanted a bit of time alone. As she watched, a burst of gryffindor red shot into air and then rain sparks down the laughing crowd below.  
  
In truth she only wanted time alone from two of the people down below. One was a recently turned fifteen year old and the other happened to be a certain red-headed curse breaker. The discussion with Bill had depressed her a little. He was such an amazing man and so handsome-it really was no surprise that she had liked him from the first moment she saw him. would it really be so bad if she just went back with Bill? He was a good man and made good money. He was strong and trustworthy. All her mating instincts told her that Bill would be a good match for both woman and the veela in her.  
  
Fleur sighed. Even for a veela-especially for a veela affairs of the heart were a complicated matter. And she knew exactly what was holding her back from getting back with Bill.  
  
It was a certain green-eyed boy.  
  
It was sweet, maddening, sometimes infuriating, Harry. A long time ago she had promised herself that she would never lie to herself or her sister. Fleur was always so surrounded by the lies of other who wanted something from her—be it wealth, political influence, or a simply a beautiful trophy. She vowed long ago to be am island of truth in the ocean of lies around her.  
  
So she was honest with herself. She did like Harry. She was drawn to the young man since before she cast the spell that temporarily linked their emotions together. He was such a beguiling combination of need and strength. The healer in her wanted nothing more than to hold him and take care of him. The woman in her thought he was handsome and strong. Her primal veela nature called out to her to take Harry as her mate and mark him as hers. Her fey instincts felt the strength of his magic and she knew he could give her many strong children and be able to protect her.  
  
Few people understood the strength of a veela's mating instincts and even diluted by the lack of a full-blood veela, Fleur was very much ruled by her instincts. That was what ruined most of her relationships. Fleur had long been jaded by the shallow relationships she's had with the men in her life. Most men simply saw her as a beautiful woman and that was all. They fail to realize that veela were not ever human and possessed needs and instincts that were very different. Harry despite his youth, was one of the few men that she had met that seemed to satisfy all the needs of the various parts of Fleur. Bill did too, but her instincts told her that he was a less perfect match when compared to Harry. Combine those base leanings with the emotional influence of the exorcism spell and was it any surprise that she was so confused.  
  
"Fleur?"  
  
The part veela turned around, surprised by Harry's voice. It had appeared so swiftly after her thoughts turned toward him if she had not known better she might have thought she had somehow called him to her.  
  
"'Arry? Why are you not downstairs with your friends?"  
  
Harry reddened and then seemed to draw on some courage and straightened up. "I wanted to thank you again for your gift. I...don't have a lot of things from my parents and most of those are just pictures. No diaries, no letters. Nothing like that. Your book gave a voice to my mother," He said seriously. "That's a big deal so thank you."  
  
Fleur waved it off. "Zat was nothing. I waz 'appy to do it. No big deal."  
  
Harry shook his head. "It is a big deal. Thank you."  
  
Fleur stared at Harry. Blue eyes met green for a moment before they both looked away. Finally she spoke. "Your welcome."  
  
Fleur sat down motioned for Harry to join her. "I zink that perhaps zat is not the only reason you joined me, no?" She folded her hands with that same classy gesture that always made Harry's stomach flip flop.  
  
She watched Harry carefully. Even now he was a mixture of confidence and uncertainty. His wild hair stuck up in all directions and her fingers itched to run them through his black locks. He flushed slightly but summoned his courage once more and began to speak.  
  
"I know," Harry began, "that you're going to go back with Bill. I heard you in the kitchen and I'm happy for you. Bill is a good guy-the whole Weasley family is great-and I hope that we can still be friends. I'm just glad that I got to tell you that I liked you because I've waited before to tell a girl and I lost the chance. With my life who knows when-  
  
"I'm not going back with Bill, Harry."  
  
"-I'll have another...  
  
Harry stopped talking and stared at Fleur. A light smile played about her mouth and her sapphire eyes shone with mirth.  
  
She said again, "I'm not going back with Bill."  
  
Harry shook his head. "But I heard you today."  
  
"Bill tried to go back with me, but as you say 'zat ship has sailed'." Fleur flipped a stray strand of hair over her ear. "You did not hear everything. But zen you should not 'ave 'eard anything." She wagged her finger at him. "It iz rude to listen to zee talks of other people."  
  
Sheepishly Harry muttered an 'I'm sorry'.  
  
Fleur waved it off. "Forgiven. I 'ave done worse to my competitors zan listen at doorz."  
  
"Why aren't you with Bill?"  
  
Fleur looked down. "Lots of reasons."  
  
"Give me one."  
  
This time Fleur was the one to flush. A pink tinge colored her pale, perfect features. "I zink you know why."  
  
Harry reached out and grabbed her hands. Rubbing his calloused thumb over her knuckles he asked again. "Tell me please." He pleaded. "I need to hear it."  
  
"I like you, 'arry." Fleur looked down and this time she was the unsure one. "I zee you and I want to run my fingerz through you 'air. I zee you and I am amazed at zee life you 'ave lived. You are amazing person 'Arry, more so because you are so 'umble." Fleur reached up and stroked his face with her satiny fingers. His nostrils flared slightly as he caught the flowery scent of a veela's desire. "Most of all I want to kiss you and show you zee difference between a school girl and a woman." She leaned forward so that she was a hairsbreath away from Harry's lips. "Starting with zis."  
  
She kissed him. Teasing open his mouth with her tongue she began to instruct Harry Potter in an art the French had long perfected. With a gentle push, she guided Harry to lay back onto her bed. Without breaking contact she followed, her silvery blond hair flowed like moon caught waterfall over their bodies, hiding them from view.  
  
Outside the fireworks continued.

* * *

Much later that night Harry waited for Ron and Hermione to join him in his room. They promised to join him after everyone else had gone to sleep so they could talk in private. Harry had decided to just tell them everything about what had happened this summer. Ultimately they were his friends and he trusted them with his secrets. He knew they would back him because they always had.  
  
Harry sat looking around his room still a little disbelieving at how much his life had changed. This room, his room was larger than the master bedroom of the Dursley's. He shook his head marveling at the change in his life when he spied Blaise's present and card still sitting on his bed. Reaching over he picked up the gift and unwrapped a small jewelry box. Opening the velvet case he revealed a beautiful ruby set in an old fashioned silver ring setting. The ruby was a deep blood colored stone that trapped the light and caused red shadows to dance along the walls.  
  
"Wow," Harry mumbled. Harry didn't know a lot about jewelry but he could tell that it was expensive. Picking up the envelope he opened it and read the birthday card inside.  
  
_Hello Harry  
  
I suppose you want to know why I sent you a birthday gift. I'ts fair warning Harry. I haven't given up on you. Slytherin are stubborn people as you well know when we want something and you are what I want.  
  
The ring is a bloodstone ring. The stone was made from a drop of my blood that was crystallized through magic. The setting is silver, made by one of the finest vampire craftsman my father knows. Bloodstone rings are an important part of vampire marriage ceremonies. Don't go losing that ring now. It's my blood and an important sympathetic magic component. Who knows what could happen to me if you got rid of it.  
  
I know you don't care about me now, but you could if you gave us a chance. My father knows that there will be Yule Ball this year. Perhaps we might go together. I've tasted your blood Harry and I know that you care for another, but give me a chance. I promise the date will be quite enjoyable. I also give my word not to bite on the date unless you ask first!  
  
The other half of my present will appear when you finish reading this. I know I have some competition but luckily I don't play fair.  
  
Until next we meet  
  
Blaise Zabini.  
_  
Right after Harry finished reading the letter it began to twist in his hands. The letter rippled and changed into a Polaroid. Shaking it a few times a moving wizard photograph appeared.  
  
Harry's jaw dropped.  
  
The photo was of Blaise Zabini reclining on her bed. She wore a brief black silk negligee that stopped at mid thigh revealing a great deal of pale, toned leg. She delicately crossed her petite ankles and smiled seductively at the camera. Then she stood up and put her back to the camera. With one hand she slid one strap of the negligee over her shoulder. The strap came down. With her other hand she slid down the other strap. Twisting her neck slightly so that her head faced the camera she blew a kiss towards Harry and then let the negligee slip down revealing an attractive--and rather bare—back. The black silk continued to slide down her body until Harry could see the top of her Black lace thong underwear. Blaise started to turn around...  
  
...and then the wizarding photo reset itself with Blaise going back to her initial position.  
  
Harry groaned and threw himself backwards on his bed. This was too bloody much! First he actually started to get some where with Fleur as his official—if secret—girlfriend and then Blaise had to go and give him that.  
  
Blaise was right. She didn't play fair.

* * *

_The study was warm and inviting. A fire filled the air with the sweet scent of burning pine filled the air and tongues of flickering flames sent dramatic shadows dancing through room.  
  
The only furniture was a pair of deep, cushioned chairs with a small table between them. Ginny Weasley sat in one chair and her friend joined her in the other one. Pouring two glass of fine brandy Ginny's friend smiled at the young redhead.  
  
"Did Harry like his present?"  
  
She sipped the glass and nodded as the burning liquid traced itself down her throat. "Just like you said he would." She leaned forward. "Will he really fall in love with me because of some rune on a necklace?"  
  
"Have I ever given you bad advice Ginevra? Didn't I tell you to speak to Amanda and get the book for you. And didn't I help you with the translation? You have to learn to trust me."  
  
Ginny nodded sheepishly. "I know Tom, I just want everything to go so perfectly. I love him so much...  
  
Tom leaned forward and took Ginny's delicate hands in his own. He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles sending soft shivers down her spine. When he spoke his velvet voice lulled Ginny as it always did. "I know you do, luv. That's why I'm helping you. You are a beautiful, amazing girl and if he ignores you...well then we just have to do what we have to in order to make sure he sees you. Whatever it takes. Remember that."  
  
Ginny sighed softly. "I know Tom. Whatever it takes...  
_

* * *

I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far. I am humbled by number I have recieved. As of this posting I have gotten over one hundred reviews. Please keep it up, reviews mean more to me than you can possibly imagine.

Also don't be afraid to share ideas with me in your reviews. you never know what idea's you could help me germinate.


	9. The Year Begins

* * *

Chapter 10 The Year Begins 

By Phoenixgod2000

Casting- Narcissa Malfoy...Portia De Rossi Draco Malfoy...Tom Felton Lucius Malfoy...Jason Isaacs Psyche Malfoy...Dakota Fanning

UnBeta'd

* * *

Platform 9 and ¾ was always an interesting study in wizarding behavior, Lucius Malfoy mused silently. The Pureblood stood in one corner of the vast platform, a series of notice-me-not charms preventing the commoners from disturbing his family as they sent Draco and their youngest child, Psyche, on their way to Hogwarts. The inner workings of the Malfoy family were not for public consumption.

It was shocking, Lucius thought, to see how far wizarding culture had fallen in the past one thousand years. Even the noted muggle lover Godric Gryffindor would have been appalled at the level of inbreeding and commingling that society currently allowed as acceptable. Lucius stroked the top of his wand-cane and watched the hustle and bustle of life as families hugged their children goodbye. His face twisted into a sneer as he saw a particular father hug his daughter.

Lionel Lovegood was a perfect example of the falling standards Lucius railed against constantly in the Wizengamot Tall and rail thin, Lovegood lingered over his hug with his short statured but equally wraithlike daughter. The obviously close pair huddled together and their identically eerie eyes seemed to grow even wider at the conversation they were sharing in whispers. Lionel was a descendant of Larissa the Charm Mistress, one of only two children Rowena Ravenclaw was known to have produced. The blood of the founders flowed in his veins and the veins of his daughter. But who did he choose to share his powerful blood with? A half dryad nature witch was the answer. At least the bitch had the good sense to die before befouling anymore of the founders blood with her faerie essence. It was a shame that Luna carried fey blood because a young girl from a founders lineage was just the sort of marriage alliance he desired for Draco.

The idea of sharing his bed and his blood with a magical beast like a dryad or a Veela disgusted Lucius. He knew that whatever their appearance, they were alien creatures with appetites that matched. There were of course the rumors about Narcissa's parentage that were never mentioned in his presence, but he knew those weren't true. A simple Blood Lineage potion confirmed her pureblood status before their marriage. Indeed, he took it as a compliment that he was married to a woman whose beauty was compared to that of a veela without the taint veela blood would carry. He turned to watch his wife smother his heir with amusement.

"I think that's enough mothering for now, Cissy." Lucius said in a softly amused tone, a tone that indicated his high regard for his wife since it was so very different than the tone he used in the rest of his interactions. "Come here Draco," he ordered with his next breath. His son obediently walked over and his young daughter took her turn at the hands of her mother.

"Yes Father." Draco spoke quietly, eyes cast downward.

"Look at me, son." Lucius ordered softly.

Draco looked up surprised flashing across his features before he schooled them once more into a blank mask. His father was fanatical about observing the proper forms for all things, _especially _in the manner in which children should behave.

"This is an important year Draco." Lucius whispered. "With our Lord returned you will have to opportunity to do your blood proud and earn a seat at the masters table. Will you be ready to be called upon if asked?"

Draco looked eager. "Of course father. You know I've been pleading for ages to get the mark. I-

Lucius held up his hand to forestall anymore enthusiasm. "Decorum Draco," the eldest Malfoy hissed. "You're a scion of Bornalis The Dragon Binder. Your blood is older and prouder than the four founders. You _will _act appropriate to your blood at all times."

Draco hung his head like a whipped dog. "I apologize father."

Lucius gave his son a thin-lipped smile. "Forgiven. I do have one task for you straight away. I want you to watch out for your sister. Psyche is...unusual and of great interest to the Dark Lord. It is difficult to tell where her loyalties lay and we must be sure of them. She has proven to be soft hearted in the past and I will not be embarrassed by my daughter's antics. Report to me if anything unusual happens at school involving Psyche. I don't trust the old fool not to try and subvert her."

Draco nodded in agreement and Lucius sent him on his way with a quick hug and another admonishment not to allow Potter to insult Slytherin on the Quiddich pitch again.

With a regal wave of his hand Lucius summoned Psyche and she appeared promptly before him. He studied his second child for a moment without speaking. His daughter was many things both marvelous and exasperating, among them proof of the superiority of purebloods when it came to magic. She was extraordinarily gifted in the arts of wizardry. Her accidental magic was so strong, the Malfoy's had to keep her attended by a house elf at all times to mend to the aftereffects of her childish petulance.

She was also notoriously soft-hearted towards all creatures. Dobby had doted on her before he had been freed and other Malfoy House elves were fiercely devoted to her. She seemed to care nothing for the bloodlines of her playmates and no head for guile. Despite those weaknesses, she effortlessly twisted everyone she met around her finger with her wide eyed innocence, including Voldemort himself, who doted on her like a favorite uncle in the two times they had met since his rebirth.

She also showed the initial promise of extraordinary and unusual beauty which pleased Lucius because it would give her many important marriage prospects. Her hair was paler than anyone else's in the family, with ivory white coloring instead of the normal platinum blond that dominated the Malfoy lineage. Her cheekbones were high and proud giving her an almost elfin beauty and her eyes were a metallic silver color instead of the steel gray that Lucius and Draco possessed.

Lucius thought about all that and more while the two pairs of grayish eyes considered each other. Lucius could see that she was nervous. Psyche possessed the emotionless mask that all Malfoy's learned to master but he could feel her fear in the almost imperceptible tightness around her eyes and the painful straightness of her back. After studying his daughter carefully Lucius began to speak softly. "Psyche, are you frightened?"

The littlest Malfoy shook her head. "No Father." She whispered in a breathy but chime like voice. "You have prepared me well for Hogwarts. I won't disappoint you."

Lucius then did something very few people would ever see him do. He dropped to his haunches to be at his daughters eye level. He smiled gently. "Remember Psyche, if the headmaster does anything you don't like or speaks improperly about me or your brother at all, tell Draco and he will owl me straight away."

Psyche nodded gravely and fixed her gaze at her feet. She stared at tiles on the ground as if they were the most fascinating things ever. She seemed to hesitate for a moment but eventually found her voice.

"Father," she said so softly Lucius had to strain to hear it on inches away from her face, "I lied to you. I _am_ scared. I fear I won't make into Slytherin. I had a queer dream where a raven, a serpent, and a lion fought over a hat that wouldn't stop singing." She dropped into silence again.

Lucius blinked in surprise but quickly plastered a smile on his face. "I'm sure it's just a dream, darling. You are a Malfoy. Cunning is in your blood. Of course you will be in Slytherin."

She still looked unsure but smiled bravely for her father. Lucius felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest. It appeared that even he was not immune to his daughters charm.

"Go Psyche," he whispered. "Join Draco on the train and stay close with him. I would not have you associating with mudbloods at school."

She curtsied perfectly--as she had been drilled. "Of course father. I only want to make you proud." She turned and ran to Draco who happened to be speaking to Crabbe and Goyle. The large Slytherins grinned cheekily at the young girl and she jumped on Crabbe's broad back with a childish squeal. Draco's huge bodyguard carried Psyche onto the train while Goyle grabbed her bags and followed suit. Lucius shook his head. The ease with which his guileless daughter charmed others was a marvel to behold.

He watched his only two children climb onto the train and disappear like he had not done for several years. This time it was different. Everything was different. the Dark Lord had returned and he had once again joined the inner circle. He could feel the charge in the air—like a storm was gathering and it was going to be centered at Hogwarts.

Banishing the melancholy turn of his thoughts Lucius Malfoy summoned his energy to apparate when he saw a sight that caused him to release the charge.

A fat red headed woman was saying goodbye to her brood of equally red-headed children. Lucius sneered when he saw the two others who had accompanied the matronly Weasley. One was a plain faced young girl with a thick mane of bushy brown hair and a perpetual aura of nosiness around her.

The second was a handsome youth with wild black hair and emerald eyes that stood out to Lucius even at the far end of the station. He smiled at something the tallest of the red headed boys said and responded with a joke that caused the taller boy to break out into laughter.

_Potter_

Lucius squeezed the tip of his wand cane. He was so close right now. There would be no way Potter would be able to dodge a killing curse right now. None of them would. He ached to fire the green spell from his wand and he even lifted his wand to take aim when he remembered his master's orders.

_Potter is mine_

Lucius cursed softly. In his hate he forgot himself. His master was quite specific when it came to Potter and the red headed pureblood traitors.

Voldemort had plans for all of them.

* * *

The final month of summer had passed by quickly for Harry and his friends. After his rendezvous with Fleur, Harry had attempted to split his time with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny and his new girlfriend. He continued with his routine of swimming, dueling and studying. None of his friends could use magic out of school so Harry showed the three some of the non magical basics of competitive dueling such as the proper stance and rules. Since more people were staying at Black Manor, the kids were able to have pickup games of Quiddich and Harry successfully convinced fleur to play a few games with them. He was surprised to learn that Fleur was quite the flyer and a mean chaser.

So the last days of summer passed by smoothly and quietly. Harry had hoped that he would be able to visit the wizarding cemetery where Cedric and his parents were buried, but Dumbledore wanted to wait—because of security. It was, however, due to his friends, girlfriend, and new living situation, that Harry, with a greatly lightened heart, joined the Weasley's at Platform 9 and ¾ .

"Mate, check out Lavender Brown." Ron whispered to Harry excitedly, shaking the boy who lived from his reverie. The pair stood alone on the platform. Hermione had been pulled off to the side to get some last minute 'Harrysitting' instructions from Molly. Ron grabbed at Harry's arm and turned him around to face their classmate.

Lavender Brown had always been one of the prettier girls in Gryffindor tower of any year but the changes she had undergone over the summer were nothing more than spectacular—at least from the point of view of male teenagers. Her body was slimmer and more toned than either boy remembered. Her honey blond hair looked a shade lighter than normal, as if she had spent a lot of time sunning herself. Her skin had a perfect golden tan that complemented her lightened hair and made her sparkling blue eyes stand out even further. She wore a simple tee-shirt and a short skirt that wrapped tightly around her thighs, revealing a long expanse of toned leg.

"Ron, stop staring at her legs and look at who she's with." Harry nudged Ron away from the rather pleasant view and pointed at the hand she gripped tightly.

The hand of Neville Longbottom.

The chubby young wizard stared at Lavender like he could not quite understand how she had gotten a hold of his arm. His expression seemed to be torn between wanting to run away and wanting to snog her senseless. Lavender meanwhile was gesturing wildly while talking to Padme and Parvati Patil about something apparently very dramatic.

Ron gaped stupidly at the sight. "Are they going out??" He asked Harry.

"I dunno. I don't keep up with gossip." Harry shrugged helplessly. "Were they dating at all last year? I was sort of distracted by the tournament, after all."

"They started dating over the summer after Lavender's parents hired Neville to tutor her in Herbology." Ginny walked over to the pair having been driven away from her mother by excessive pestering. She seemed to pay no attention to the fact that her proximity seemed to make Harry uncomfortable. "She's so tan because she spent a month in Australia." Ginny said wistfully. "I heard she learned how to surf."

This was not the first time this summer that Ginny's proximity caused Harry discomfort. It seemed that whenever he was around her, he noticed yet another amazing thing about her. The way her hair shined, the way her brown eyes sparkled, the way she smelled when she stood too near him. There were moments over the summer where Harry found himself longing to snatch her up and kiss her which was an odd feeling to say the least. He had never been attracted to Ginny before. Certainly not in comparison to Fleur or Blaise. Rubbing her birthday gift to him where it hung on his neck, Harry looked over at Ginny as she watched her brother stare in mixed amusement and jealously at Neville while he tried to force her proximity from his thoughts.

"That does it," Ron declared, "I'm getting a girlfriend this year. If Neville can do it, anyone can."

"I'm glad to hear it." Hermione's amused voice said from behind. Ron yelped and turned around, his freckled face darkening with embarrassment. "Just make sure she's not already taken by somebody else." She added lightly.

"I guess that leaves out _you_," he snapped. "Since your still dating _Vicky._"

Hermione started to stutter, "But w-we're not...I mean...I'm not dating him." she finished weakly.

"Bloody Hell," Ron whispered fiercely, "Don't try and feed me that crap 'Mione. I've seen you writing those thick letters to him all month." Angrily he stalked off towards the train without waiting to say goodbye to his mother.

Hermione's teasing smile vanished. She stared after Ron and blinked back tears. "I don't think I should have said that." She whispered brokenly.

"No, you shouldn't have." Harry answered just as softly. "You know he's still sore about the Yule Ball." He watched Hermione's dejected face and said bluntly, "if you like him just say so. Don't shove in his face all the letters you've been writing to Viktor. Making him jealous isn't going to work, Hermione."

"I guess not, but I don't kn-

"where did Ron go?" Mrs. Weasley approached the pair looking around, nervously scanning the crowd for her red-headed son.

"He went on the train to get us a car." Harry answered quickly.

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "Drat. I wanted to tell him again how proud I was he made prefect along with you, Hermione."

Perhaps the most surprising thing that happened over the last month of everyone's vacation was along with their letters, both Ron and Hermione received prefect badges. Hermione's was no surprise, of course, but Ron—and his entire family—was flabbergasted by the choice. Harry was a little upset about the choice at first. He would have liked to have been made a prefect, but after a flash of jealously, Harry decided to be happy for his friend. After, Harry was the one with an amazing, beautiful, older, veela girlfriend.

It was important to keep perspective.

* * *

"This is a very important year." Hermione lectured as the train sped through the countryside. "We have OWL's this year. If we don't do well, we'll never get any important jobs." The young prefect pulled out a day-planner. "I have got a schedule started, but until I know when your practice is, and what our patrol schedule is like, I can't finish it."

Ron and Harry rolled their eyes at her nervousness. Neither had any doubts that Hermione would shatter all previous records with her OWL achievement and they both told her so, many times over the course of the summer—and of course she ignored them and continued to fret.

"We also have career advice this year." Hermione said to the others. "McGonagall's supposed to help us decide what career we should take up when we leave and what classes we need to do them. I can't decide what to tell her. There are so many jobs that seem interesting like curse breaking or auror, but I really want to affect peoples lives so maybe healing or teaching." It was her turn to roll her eyes at the two boys. "I suppose neither of you know what you want to do when we leave Hogwarts."

Ron smiled at the chance to surprise Hermione. "Actually, I have been thinking about it. This summer working with the dragons was the coolest thing ever. I really want to work on a dragon preserve like Charlie. Maybe one here in England so I'm not so far away from everybody." His smiled turned into a frown when he realized that neither Harry nor Hermione was at all surprised by his declaration.

"Honestly, Mate." Harry told Ron. "did you really expect us to be surprised? All month the only things you've talked about were dragons and the open keeper spot on the house team."

"I for one am happy for you." Hermione said. "At least one of you has a career plan." Her gaze flickered over to Harry with some disapproval. "So what are you going to tell Professor McGonagall, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Haven't really thought about careers. Probably Auror or unspeakable to help out against Voldemort. After that..." His voice trailed off.

"At least you're taking your studies more seriously by adding Ancient Runes and Arithmancy." Hermione added brightly. "Those two classes should give you lots of options for careers later.

"I still can't believe you dropped Divination." Ron said shaking his head. "That class is such an easy O."

"That's just the point," Harry said. "I don't want to just take a class 'cause it's easy. That won't help me the next time Voldemort appears. And he will." The boy who lived shrugged again. "As for a career, who knows what I'll do afterwards. If I live, I doubt I'll want to keep being an Auror."

"Don't say that Harry." Hermione scolded.

"Yeah mate. Don't even joke." Ron added seriously. The freckled boy suddenly grinned. "Besides if you die, you'll never be able to play seeker for the Chuddely Cannons after You-Know-Who gets beat."

Harry laughed and the three students lapsed into silence for a while. The only other person in the compartment was a sandy haired fourth year named Luna Lovegood. Apparently she wasn't very popular because she was the only person in her compartment while most of the others were packed five or six deep. Harry, Ron, and Hermione tried a number of different compartments, but after the one thousandth stare by a student who had read too many lies about Harry in the Daily Prophet, they decided to find a less occupied compartment. The only one available was the one occupied by the odd girl. At the beginning of the train ride she had ignored the trio while reading a newspaper upside down and her wand tipped precariously over one ear but eventually she had fallen asleep. Currently she was rolled into a tight ball with her newspaper draped over her face like a veil.

"Is she asleep?" Hermione asked softly.

Ron shrugged. "Who knows with Loony. She could be playing dead to catch one of them Crumple-Bladed-Snoreblacks or whatever she was going on about earlier."

Harry looked at the girl and decided to try something. Over the past month he would get flashes of what people were thinking about or bits of their past. It was how he was certain that Hermione liked Ron and wanted to make him jealous through her letters to Viktor. Dumbledore said it was the Legimency he had absorbed from Voldemort. Harry took a few steadying breaths and focused his energy on his scar. When it started to tingle he pressed outward and sent a feathery tendril of thought towards Luna. He received a number of fuzzy and confusing impressions from the disorganized mind of Luna Lovegood, but one thing stood out firm.

Harry said quietly, "She's asleep."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Now we can really talk." The three scooted closer together and Hermione spoke in a hushed tone. "I've been thinking about your new powers and I think I can convince Madam Pince to let me into the restricted section where anything on Necromancy would be found. Don't worry Harry," She said comfortingly, "We'll figure out a way to get you trained without relying on vampires. Honestly, I can't believe Dumbledore would even consider what they wanted."

"Why not?" Harry asked softly. "I considered it."

Hermione squeezed Harry's knee lightly and Ron rested a hand on his shoulder. Not for the first time Harry was grateful he ignored his instincts and went ahead and told Ron and Hermione everything that had happened including the marriage offer. Both had responded admirably and vocally supported Harry. He had worried that Ron might be consumed with jealously since he had become so much more powerful but the redheaded youth demonstrated just how much he had been changed by his summer abroad when he just said quietly, "You know I'm with you all the way Harry."

After the declaration of support they trio lapsed into silence once again until Ron and Hermione had to leave to go on patrol. Harry stayed a few moments longer before he decided to go visit Fleur.

* * *

Damien Nightshade, King of the Nightshade clan stalked through his home cursing his advisor for waking him while the sun was still high. Despite every window in his home being closed he could feel the sun weighing down on him oppressively. not for the first time he wished he shared his half-blooded daughter's immunity to sunlight.

The vampire king made his way to the library where he knew Augustus was waiting for him. When he got to the library he found his ancient half-blooded advisor sipping a rare vintage of giants blood. Augustus wore resplendent robes and numerous golden chains were wrapped around his neck and hung down the front of his ceremonial robes.

"Why did you have me awakened, Augustus?" Damien poured himself a glass of giants blood and downed the pungent liquid, his posture radiating displeasure at his subordinate.

The advisor straightened nervously, knowing the mercurial mood of his liege would shift dramatically when he was told the news. "Sire, several of our thralls have discovered a body." Augustus began hesitantly. "We...believe it may be Thomas."

"Believe," the vampire king growled. "Why believe?"

"There...wasn't much left of his body and he had been decapitated. There were some...remnants of ceremonial tattoos in places Thomas was known to have worn them, but the sun had charred them almost beyond recognition, so we are not sure." Augustus prepared himself for a royal tantrum but Damien just sat down heavily.

"Another one." Damien whispered. Thomas was the eighth vampire to die under mysterious circumstances in the past two months. Damien shot to his feet and flung the crystal goblet away where it shattered against the far wall. "Where is he finding them?" He bellowed. "all vampire priests are protected by the greatest magics we control. I laid the wards upon Thomas himself. Voldemort should not be able to capture them!"

Rage expended, the royal vampire sat back down and sagged against his chair. Rubbing his temples, Damien sighed. "Now can be no doubt what Voldemort was after. Thomas only knew one thing of any import."

"Yes, sire. The Dark Lord wants the Litany of Blood."

"We can't let him get a hold of it. The knowledge of Blood magic in the hands of the likes of him cannot be allowed to occur." Damien looked up. "Recommendations?"

"The Litany is as well guarded as yourself and your daughter. But if Thomas talked..."

Damien nodded sharply. "I agree. Thomas is...was," he corrected, "loyal and strong, but Voldemort could torture the secrets from a rock. We must protect the Litany at all costs."

Augustus nodded quietly. He did not need to be told about necessity of protecting the ancient tome. He hesitated for a moment and then spoke. "My lord, what about Hogwarts..."

Damien thought for a moment before nodding. "I will contact Dumbledore and have the Litany protected at Hogwarts. Besides, it will give me a chance to check up on my daughter and young Mr. Potter to see if he has reconsidered my offer." He smiled at his old tutor turned advisor. "Excellent advice as always Augustus."

"Do you truly think he will have, Sire?" the ancient half blood asked.

The vampire king smiled sinisterly. "No, if he agreed too quickly that would spoil all of Blaise's fun."

Both men smiled at the thought. Blaise, like all vampires, found the hunt to be most enjoyable.

* * *

Harry knew which car and room Fleur was riding in since before he got on the train she had whispered the directions into his ear in case he got a free moment to visit her.

Located in one of the front compartments, Harry had to walk past all of the Hogwarts students on the train and only by luck was he able to avoid Draco's gang as they wandered down the hall. Ducking into compartment with a bunch of Ravenclaws Harry said hello and quickly left after Draco walked by. The Ravenclaws had seemed a little cold to Harry, which struck him as odd because he had always gotten along with them.

Harry eventually found his way to his girlfriends car and knocked lightly on the door. After no one answered he softly opened the compartment door and stole inside.

She was asleep.

Harry found Fleur curled on the seat wrapped in a silk cover and a thick pillow that she had probably conjured. Her silvery blond hair was spread around her face like an angelic halo and her delicate feet poked from the edges of the blanket adorably.

Harry paused at the doorway and watched her. His breath still caught, more a month later, whenever he saw fleur. She was simply heartstoppingly, ackingly, beautiful. Deep in his heart Harry could not believe she was with him, that he deserved such an amazing woman.

Harry shaking his head free from self-disparaging thoughts and padded over to Fleur. He inhaled her light floral scent and bent close to his new girlfriend and deposited a soft kiss on her forehead.

Fleur shifted and blearily opened her eyes. "'Arrry? Are we zer yet?"

"No. Ron and Hermione had to go on prefect patrol and I wanted to spend some time with you before we got off." Harry replied softly. "Who knows how much time we'll be able to sneak at Hogwarts." It was amazing he mused that even after being asleep for who knows how long her silvery blond hair was straight and as perfectly coifed as ever. The exact opposite of his own flyaway locks.

The pair had decided to keep their relationship secret. They didn't know the exact legality of whether or not a student and an apprentice could date at Hogwarts and neither wanted their relationship to be spread around the school. Harry decided to even keep Ron and Hermione out of the loop so they wouldn't be torn between their prefect duties and their friendship—Hermione more so than Ron.

Her eyes twinkled with mirth. "Good. Perhaps we can continue with your lessons."

"What," Harry replied in mock outrage. "I'm not passing yet? I'll have you know that I'm doing O work."

She laughed. "Do not argue with zee professor, 'Arry," she wagged her finger at him in mock disappointment. "You are Exceeding Expectations but you have much to learn before you receive an O...but if you don't want to practice..."

Harry joined Fleur beneath her conjured silk cover and snuggled close to her soft warmth. "Well, if my teacher thinks I need work, who am I to argue..."

* * *

Much later Harry slipped out of Fleur's compartment and started walking back to the room he shared with Ron and Hermione. He had a huge smile plastered on his face and it felt like he was walking on air.Now that was some O work 

"Look everybody," Draco Malfoy's voice rang out, "It's a Potty. And he's all alone."

Harry smiled at the pale haired Slytherin who had stepped out in front of him alone. Harry got his first good look at his nemesis this year. Draco had gotten taller and broader across the shoulders. He looked more like his father than ever although the cold competency that Lucius Malfoy exuded was replaced by Draco's aura of entitlement and indulgence.

Draco waited for Harry to get angry and respond but Harry merely tried to past the Slytherin to continue down the path. Draco wasn't going ruin his good mood. "Malfoy, I didn't know they expanded the pets list to include ferrets." Harry retorted when Draco shifted to block his path.

"Careful Potty," Draco warned. "I'd hate to take away points when we get to Hogwarts." He flashed a prefects badge. "After all, it's a thirty point fine if you insult a prefect."

"Shut up Malfoy." Ron's strong voice rang out. He and Hermione walked up behind Draco. "If you take any points from Harry I can just give them back."

Draco eyed the now much larger Weasley warily. "The old man must be off his rocker if he made a Weasel and bushy haired Mudblood prefects." He sneered.

Harry's wand was out in a flash. "Don't talk about Dumbledore that way," he growled. Draco drew his own wand and trained it on Harry. The Boy-Who-lived smiled and Draco noticed a shadow pass across his emerald eyes. "Just give me a reason ferret," Harry hissed. Draco blanched and looked around. He saw that both Hermione and Ron had their own wands trained on the Slytherin prefect.

Draco plastered a sneer across his face. "We'll settle this another time, Potty. When you aren't hiding behind your bodyguards."

* * *

_Stupid Granger. Stupid Weasel. Stupid Potter._

Draco walked down the corridor to his compartment that was being shared by he, Pansy, Psyche, Crabbe, and Goyle. He had gone out for some air alone when he spotted potter coming from that new half-blooded apprentice healer's compartment.

Potter was just asking to be hassled. It was just a shame that Granger and Weasel had to come around while he was alone with Potter.

"I saw what you did," a soft voice called out from behind him. Draco turned around and Blaise Zabini was leaning casually up against the wall. "You should leave Potter alone. He could crush you if he wanted."

"Sod off Zabini," Draco muttered. He hated the half vampire with a passion. She was beautiful and certainly cunning enough for the house they shared but she was part monster and Draco was dammed if he wanted to share colors with a _thing_ like her.

"I think not." The half vampire stalked forward, smiling predatorily.

"Stay the hell away from me, freak." The blond Slytherin warned. Draco brought up his wand menacingly.

Blaise Zabini laughed and in a flash slammed Draco up against the wall of the train pinning his wand hand helplessly above him. Draco struggled but the slender girl easily out muscled him with her undead strength.

"Draco," she hissed warningly. "Be wary who you call a freak." Her mouth opened wide, wider than any humans could possibly stretch. Her incisors grew into hollow fangs and she snapped at the pureblood. "My father warned me I should play nice with the purebloods but this summer has been most..._stressful_ and I could use a stiff drink."

Blaise slammed Draco painfully against the wall of the train. "Would you like to join me for a drink, _Draco_." The blond shook his head limply and faster than he could blinks she let him go and stood before him demurely, with her hands behind her back. He, meanwhile, slid to the ground shaken by her assault of his person.

Blaise dropped to her haunches and leaned close to Draco. An impossibly long tongue snaked out and slithered along his neck. She closed her eyes in ecstasy and for a single, mad moment Draco thought she was going to bite him. After a moment her eyes snapped open and she hissed in a derisive voice. "Your Lucky. Bloods too thin for a proper meal."

Draco dropped his head back against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. As he closed his eyes for a moment, Blaise's departing laughter echoed in his ears.

* * *

The office was a testament to a man of wide ranging interests and great age. Gadgets of unknown origins sat on his desk whirling and sparking mysteriously. A yellowed scroll covered in arcane glyphs sat half furrowed on his desk near a journal filled with spidery scrawls. A thick stack of parchment in neat even writing sat waiting to be perused. In a place of prominence was a glass jar filled with lemon drops.

In one corner of the cluttered office an open birds perch with ash tray attached beneath sat empty while its phoenix owner hunted in the Forbidden Forest. A mirror draped in royal purple cover sat in the opposite corner. Painting of past headmasters hung next to plaques extolling the occupants skill in poker, bowling, and other muggle games.

Shelves groaned with the weight of knickknacks from more than years of life than most can conceive of. Masks from Africa had their place along side silk tasseled weapons from China and Thailand and glazed, wax sealed jars from the Middle East.

It was through a window and into this office that a phoenix with white and gold plumage flew into. The bird circled the small office once and then landed on the floor in the center of the room. Gone in the next moment, the bird was replaced by the form of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. The ancient wizard, feeling every moment of his age at the time, shuffled over to his desk and sat down heavily. Reaching over he grabbed a lemon drop infused with Pep Up potion and a drop of the Elixir of Life and popped it into his mouth. He sat silently eyes closed and allowed the familiar taste to fill his mouth. As the tart candy dissolved into his mouth the potions rejuvenated his tired limbs.

While the candy worked its magic Dumbledore looked over his desk to see if anything important had been left for him to peruse. His eyes fell on the thick stack of parchment filled with the neat handwriting of one Percival Weasley. Dumbledore smiled softly. "Ahh, Percy," he murmured, "you are perhaps too efficient." Leaning back he ignored for a second the volume of work still left to be done and luxuriated in the mere ability to sit still for a moment.

He had been running himself ragged in the past months. Between fending off attacks and power grabs from Fudge and personally weaving wards of protection around the homes of the loved one from the Order, Albus hadn't felt this weak in centuries.

Plus there was always Harry.

The Headmaster smiled slightly as he thought about the wild haired youth he loved like a member of his own blood. Harry attracted trouble like no one Dumbledore had ever known.

He had spent nearly the entire past month attempting to find answers to Harry's dilemma. Answers that were not forth coming.

He had walked the pearled pathway of the last Atlantean Oracle and begged for answers at the feet of the Seer of Delphi. He spoke with the Demi liche Luukos and meditated in the Akashic Record located on the astral plane. He walked the Hall of Worlds and made contact with alien wizards. He conjured nameless things from beyond the boundaries of this reality and made bargains that came perilously close to giving up his soul. He nearly violated pacts he made with the powers of light, pacts he had kept sacred for years beyond counting.

All for Harry.

And all for naught. He had been able to learn nothing about Harry's new abilities or what was going to happen to him. Every answer was the same. From Oracles to tentacle demons, the same phrase echoed from every tongue.

_He is becoming..._

Turning the whispered words over in his mind Albus Dumbledore looked out his high tower window and saw the lights from the Hogwarts express rushing towards the far end of the lake. With a sigh Dumbledore poured himself a steaming goblet of strengthening potion and took a deep drink.

The students would be here soon and he needed to be ready.

* * *

"Madison, Christine!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Malefor, Dugal!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Harry sat between Hermione and Ron during the sorting because they were fighting. _Again. _This time it was because while on their rounds through the train Ron ran into the fifth year girl Prefect for Hufflepuff, a pretty blond haired witch named Susan Bones. She asked if Ron wanted to go to the first Hogsmead weekend with her. Ron accepted and Hermione seemed to find it rather rude that Susan asked him out in front of her and took Ron to task for accepting. So they got into yet another row and haven't spoken more than three words to each other since.

So Harry was once again stuck in the middle.

The sorting was rather boring so far with a nearly even spread of wide eyed innocents going to each house. Harry amused himself by scanning the room looking to see how familiar faces had changed. He spotted Alastor Moody sitting at the teachers table. He guessed that the auror would be the DADA teacher this year. Idly he wondered if it was the real Moody or another imposter.

Next, he spotted the tired face of Cho Chang sitting at the Ravenclaw table surrounded by friends who seemed to be attempting to distract her. She was still beautiful he noted, but it wasn't the same beauty that had attracted him these past few years. No, cho possessed a melancholy and fragile air about her, the sort of beauty that inspired protective devotion in the people around her. Harry found himself missing the smiling face and flashing eyes of the jubilant and competitive Quiddich player.

Deciding that looking at the pretty Ravenclaw was too painful Harry turned back to the boring Sorting. Or course the sorting suddenly became more interesting with the next name called.

"Malfoy, Psyche!"

The grave, pale haired daughter of Lucius Malfoy walked through the whispering crowd towards the Sorting Hat and placed it on her head. Unlike Draco who was labeled a Slytherin without hesitation, Psyche sat with the hat on her head for quite some time.

"I wonder what's taking so long," Ron mused. "after all, she's just another Slytherin like Malfoy." And Ron glared across the Great Hall at his nemesis.

"You don't know that for a fact." Hermione lectured. "Just because of who her parents and brother are doesn't mean she's a bad person. For all you know she could be in Gryffindor with us."

Ron snorted. "Not bloody likely."

Eventually the Hat shouted, "RAVENCLAW."

The school erupted into whispers once more and Psyche walked towards the Ravenclaw table. As she past Ron he glared at her and she seemed to shrink into herself. When she reached the Ravenclaw table, none of the other first years moved aside for her. After waiting for moment she walked around the table and found a large open space surrounding Luna Lovegood. The weird fourth year sat isolated at the table and the young Malfoy took her seat next to the one nicknamed Loony. She sat ramrod straight and ignored the pointed looks and snickers at the table around her.

Harry watched her and felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. When Psyche walked by him, he could feel her thoughts and emotions flicker. Outwardly she was as calm as a placid lake but she was in turmoil inwardly. She was ashamed that she didn't get into Slytherin like her brother and she feared both her new classmates and her parents in equal measure.

Ron had no such insight into her mind and he continued to glare at her off and on during the rest of the sorting. Of course that gave something new for he and Hermione to argue about and Harry clapped his hands over his ears to drown out the bickering.

The rest of the sorting past by uneventfully and Dumbledore stood up to give his speech before the welcome feast could begin.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts." Dumbledore's voice echoed through the hall. "I can hear the rumbling of student's bellies so I will be brief. Last year was a difficult one for all of us," he continued, "but no doubt this one will be better. I know that the Ministry and the Daily Prophet have said things about me and the return of Voldemort." He looked around the room gravely and every student, no matter how far away from the Headmaster felt the weight of his gaze. "but I assure you that he has returned. But do not fear. Hogwarts has withstood armies of Dragons and Giants. You are all safe here, cocooned within the ancient wards of these halls."

He smiled and the students could see his eyes twinkle from the back of the room. "On a lighter note there will be several changes at Hogwarts this year. First of all there will be Yule Ball open to fourth years and above before break. I would advise every young man to begin planning well in advance if he wishes to take the witch of his dreams."

The school erupted into chatter as girls began talking excitedly amongst themselves and every boy without a steady girlfriend, facing the prospect of having to summon the courage to ask a girl out, instantly starting shifting in their seats nervously. Dumbledore tapped his wine glass with his fork.

"Secondly," his voice boomed out. "We will be hosting a dueling tournament this year at Hogwarts in addition to the Quiddich competition. The tournament will be open to fifth years and above with Fourth years accepted if they have both their parent and head of their house's permission. The prize will be three hundred points for the winning house as well as The Dueling Cup." He motioned at the diminutive charms professor. "Professor Flitwick will be judging the tournament along with Professor Snape. Both have won many Professional dueling tournaments and are able judges. Assisting them will be Madam Pomfry's new apprentice Fleur Delacour, who is an accomplished duelist herself as well as a former Tri-Wizard Champion."

"As you can see there is an open spot here at the teacher's table. I regret to inform you that Professor Binns has, as the muggles say, 'left the building', so I have hired a new History teacher. He will be a familiar face to many of you but I would not dream of spoiling the surprise." The old headmaster grinned. "Also, Professor Moody has gladly decided to return to Hogwarts to teach a second year of Defense against the dark arts." The school erupted in applause because, ironically, the false professor Moody had been a great teacher and it wasn't common knowledge that he had been a plant by Voldemort. The old auror just snorted into his flask and took a long pull from the container. Presumably to hid his sneer.

"Finally, Mr. Flich would be most cross with me if I did not reiterate the following—Spells cannot be used in between class and the 642 items on the forbidden list can be found on his office door. I urge every to take a look so they will not be caught with contraband. Last, but certainly not least, the Forbidden forest is off limits to all students." He looked over to the Gryffindor table. "I repeat—All students—without exception. With that, tuck in!" Dumbledore clapped once and the tables suddenly groaned with food.

Like a starving man Ron drove into the food and began shoveling as fast as he could chew.

* * *

The feast finally ended and it became time for the prefects to show the first years where their new home was going to be. Ron stood and shouted down the table.

"Oi, you titchy little lions, follow me!"

Hermione quickly stood and nudged him. "don't call them that!"

"Why not, they're tiny little buggers." Ron complained. "Way smaller than us when we were first years." The pair continued to bicker as they led the students away.

Harry lagged behind for a moment. After hesitating for a split second he walked up to the Ravenclaw table. He approached Cho Chang quietly almost reaching her when a big Ravenclaw, a muggleborn named Anthony Goldstein jumped in his way. He was a beater for the Ravenclaw Quiddich team.

"Cho doesn't want to see you." He said gruffly.

"But I just-

"What part of she doesn't want to see you don't you understand, Potter?"

Irritation flashed in Harry's mind and reflexively he formed fists. With his necromancers strength he knew he could take on the large beater, but after a moment the rage passed and he relaxed his fists.

"Cho," he called out past Goldstein, "I just want to talk. Cho!"

The Chinese Ravenclaw ducked her head and rushed out of the room surrounded by her friends. Goldstein gave one last ugly look at Harry and then walked away.

Harry stood, almost alone in the hall for a long time before he walked out the door towards the Fat Lady and his room at Gryffindor Tower. All of a sudden he was exhausted.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him when he reached the portrait.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Harry nodded mutely.

"We waited 'cause we knew you didn't have the password yet." Ron explained.

Harry nodded again silently.

"phoenixsong." Hermione murmured when she realized that Harry didn't want to talk.

The painting slid open and Hermione started to step through when a soft voice called out, "Potter."

Harry turned around and saw Draco Malfoy standing in the hall.

"Go away," Harry muttered. "Don't feel like fighting right 'bout now."

Ron gathered his hands into fists. "Run off, Ferret boy."

Draco held out his hands palm up. "I come in peace Weasel. I just want to talk to you and Potter. _Alone_." He emphasized to Hermione. "You can leave Granger."

Hermione looked questioningly at the two boys and Harry nodded. "We'll be fine with Malfoy, won't we Ron?"

Ron cracked his knuckles. "Yeah, mate. Just fine."

Hermione shrugged and stepped through the passage. The painting slid shut behind her and the three were left in the hall alone.

"What do you want, Ferret?" Ron asked rudely.

"I want you to leave my sister alone. I saw the way you looked at her, Weasel. I want you to keep your whole damn house away from my sister, especially those ogre twin brothers of yours. _Leave her alone_." He said again intensely.

"I don't listen to ferrets." Ron sneered. "give me one good reason not to."

"Because she doesn't deserve it." Draco said quietly. "She's different than the rest of my family. Different than me. She's better than us and certainly better than you lot. Just leave her alone." He looked at Ron with an expression that could almost be called desperate—if it had been worn by anyone other than a Malfoy. "You have a little sister too, Weasel. You know what's it like...wanting to protect them and all."

Ron looked surprised but found himself nodding at what Draco said.

"What do we get out of it?" Harry asked. He knew that neither he, Ron, nor any other Gryffindor was actually planning on doing anything to the little Malfoy, but hey, if Draco thought everyone was as big a Bully as he was, why not try and get something out of it?

Draco sighed. "Potter, now you pick the time to start thinking like a Slytherin? Fine, your sister is off limits to everybody in Slytherin, Weasel. No pranks, no stealing her homework, I can even get professor Snape to give her a break in Potions—little Ginny is left alone."

Ron blinked. "blimey, you _are _serious aren't you?"

Draco turned to leave. "Just hold up your end, Potter. Weasley. My sister is left alone, no one plays any pranks on her, and the little red head gets the same deal."

Both Gryffindor boys nodded silently at what would probably be the only civilized conversation the three of them would ever have. They turned their backs on each other and walked away, leaving the hall empty once again.

* * *

Authors notes-Finally! another chapter out. I want to appologize for taking so long for this chapter to come out. this was orginally supposed to be chapter ten with another chapter coming out before it. that chapter wasn't working out so I decided to move it to a later part of the story so I could move on. that necessitated rewriting a lot of the this chapter as well as some of the later chapters that even now I am working on. I hope everyone likes it and it was worth the wait.

Secondly, I posted several challenges for Harry/Fleur and Harry/Mulitple Partner stories in my profile. I want to encourage as many people as possible to start writing this pairing. It has so much potential and so few people write it. In general I would like to see way more exotic pairings, so get to work :) Drop me an email if you decide to take up any of my challenges. Although I am not good enough with grammer to beta for you I would be happy to help out as a sounding board of ideas

I want to thank everyone for reviewing this story. Keep the faith, I will finish it! remember to read and review. Tell me what you think, its the only way I can get better.


	10. School Daze Part One

Chapter 10—School Daze, part one

By Phoenixgod2000

this is un beta'd. I'll post the beta'd chapter when its done. If you want to check out a rough version of the next chapter of Redemption of the Black sisters check out the Harry/Bella yahoogroup. I've posted about fifteen pages of the story there. but if you do, you have to leave a review and tell me what you think!

also check out the short song fic Son of Man by DJ. you can look for it under PG-13 Harry/Fleur. He used my stories as inspiration, so check it out and leave a review.

* * *

Harry was less lost in his very first ancient runes class than he thought he would be. The class studied a number of different languages with runic bases every year so Harry was starting a fresh language like everyone else in the class. Of course the students who'd been in the class for two years had more practice studying languages so they did have an advantage with the type of material being studied, but less of an advantage that Harry initially thought.

"Remember class," Professor Ambrose Linguis instructed, "the key to translating True Elven runes is in the whirls at the edge of the glyphs. The slightest change in length or direction can completely alter the meaning of the rune. Turning for example the rune for death into the rune which represents an act some might consider the embodiment of life." He joked with the class. "You can see how that might confuse a translation—and add a unforeseen wrinkle into any runic spell you were crafting." The Ancient Runes teacher tapped his wand against the chalkboard and a maze of confusing symbols seemed to raise out of it. "For the rest of class I want you to copy down the following twenty symbols and for homework I want at least two feet on their meanings and possible mistranslations."

Harry started copying down the symbols with his quill. Looking up he squinted at the board in an effort to get each symbol exactly right. He sat in the first row of the class because he wanted to make sure his less than perfect vision didn't affect his work. Several, he noticed, looked similar to runes inscribed on the Headmasters Archmage staff.

Harry was tired. Not sleep deprived fatigue because his now enhanced vitality meant he only needed a fraction of the sleep he once did, but nonetheless he was still exhausted. It was a bone deep weariness whose origin he couldn't identify. He spent the previous evening study, pouring over Hermione's old textbooks for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. It wasn't even the studying that fatigued Harry, it was something unquantifible that prickled at the edge of his consciousness.

It was frustrating to Harry. There was something different about Hogwarts. He could feel it deep within the stones of the school, a sense of magic that permeated the ancient halls. It seemed to be an almost sentient presence. There were moments the night before where he thought something in the school was calling out to him. Even now, if he closed his eyes, it was just at edges of his thoughts... It almost felt like if he turned his head fast enough he would see what was just out of reach.

With a loud clatter, Harry dropped his quill to the floor. Blushing at the sudden sound which attracted the attention of the entire class, Harry retrieved his quill. Once he so Harry decided to take a break from copying. He straightened his stiff neck and looked around. Hermione was sitting next to him, her face pressed close to the paper as she endeavored to get every rune exactly right. Lavender Brown sat behind Hermione and was hard at work as well. The three of them were the only Gryffindor's in the class. Most of the students in ancient runes were Ravenclaw's with a smattering of Hufflepuff's and Slytherin's. All three houses generally produced more studious individuals than Gryffindor, a House noted more for its action oriented members than its study habits.

Blaise Zabini was the only other familiar face besides Hermione and Lavender in the class. Harry had said hello to her when the class started and acted politely, if not friendly. Hermione had acted much colder towards the half vampire since she knew that her father was attempting to blackmail Harry into marriage. Blaise took Hermione's standoffishness in good humor mainly because she noticed that Harry was wearing the ring she had given him.

A point she made sure to emphasize when she caught up with him during lunch.

* * *

If Ancient Runes was less than exciting, Transfiguration was the opposite. Harry and Hermione met up with Ron outside the door to the classroom. Ron had Divination during the same period Harry and Hermione were in Ancient Runes. He greeted both his friends with a smile

"Mate, you should of seen Trelawney's face when she saw that you weren't in her class anymore. Didn't know whose death to predict." The red head joked

"Ron," Hermione scolded. "Why are you still taking that rubbish class? It's just a waste of time. You don't even have Harry's company as an excuse anymore."

Ron shrugged. "It's better than developing a hump, all slouched over a scroll trying to get every squiggle right in a dead language that no one speaks anymore."

"Ron! You know that ancient runes is so much more than that. If Harry and I can get into the professor's NEWT class we'll learn..."

Harry let the argument/flirting pass by him as he found a seat in the back of the class alongside Ron. Hermione was still lecturing the red head on the fabulous possibilities of ancient runes as she took a seat two rows ahead of them.

McGonagall watched from her desk as her favorite student browbeat Ron for his lack of interest in scholastic pursuits, but the instant class started she fixed her face in an authoritative manner and addressed the mixed class of Gryffindor's and Slytherin's.

"Welcome to fifth year transfiguration," she began, her long years of teaching enabling her to instantly quiet the classroom with nothing more than sheer force of personality. "This year will be the most difficult yet. We will be starting limited organic—including human--transfiguration, a discipline that can be quite taxing, and one of the most widely used in day to day wizardry. Any students that take this class with less than complete seriousness will be punished harshly." A number of students particularly Neville and the duo of Crabbe and Goyle began looking very nervous. McGonagall surveyed the classroom gravely.

"However I have a surprise treat for all of you. Normally I don't do this except for students who desire to do it as a final NEWT level project, but with events as they are, the headmaster wants as many students as possible to become Animagus for safety reasons. Therefore in the second half of the year I will be testing every fifth through seventh year students for Animagus potential. Those you who have the aptitude and the inclination I will train personally in independent classes."

The class burst into murmurings and students began eyeing one another in a vain attempt to divine what animal—if any—they had lurking inside of them.

"I don't expect many of you to have the ability nor necessarily the power to implement the transformation. In thirty nine years of teaching I have had perhaps a dozen students who've made the transformation successfully. But it is a usefully skill, one that could save your life one day." She drew her mouth into a sharp line. "Those of you whom I will train will _not_ use their ability in inappropriate ways. If you do misuse my training, you punishment will prove to be...unforgettable." Turning around she tapped the board with her wand. "But that day is far from now. Begin copying these notes on facial transfiguration. You have twenty minutes before we begin the practical lesson."

The class got out their scrolls and the sound of quills scratching against parchment soon filled the room. Ron, Harry, and Hermione turned to look at each other. "I feel a sudden urge to study transfiguration." Ron joked. Hermione could only nod in agreement, but the light that shone in her eyes at the prospect of the difficult magic told of her excitement.

Harry smiled at his best friends. "Me too, mate. Me too."

* * *

"Potter!" Blaise shouted down the hall towards the rapidly retreating back of the trio.

After transfiguration the three friends had decided to eat lunch outside under a large oak three. They talked about what animals they thought they might be. Ron thought it would be cool to turn out to be a lion while Hermione couldn't decide what animal she thought was lurking inside of her soul.

Harry just hoped he would end up a stag like his father.

The trio laughed and joked and thoroughly enjoyed their break. For a while Harry forgot all about his problems. Vampires, necromancers, and dark lords vanished from his thoughts for that fall lunch day. But like all good things it had to end and the trio made their way back into the castle to go to their last two classes of the day, History of Magic and Defense against the Dark Arts. They were nearing their destination when Blaise caught up to them

The beautiful half vampire asked, "Can I have a moment alone with Harry?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Hermione said, shaking her mane of bushy hair. Ron's eyes never left Blaise's but he nodded vigorously in agreement.

"It's okay," Harry reassured. "I'll meet you in History in bit." The pair nodded reluctantly and left Harry alone with the dark haired girl.

Blaise suddenly seemed unsure of herself when they were left alone. She did smile though, after a moment and she motioned at Harry's ring adorned hand. "I guess you like my gift."

Harry blushed slightly. "It's a nice ring." He looked down at the red-black stone that was Blaise's blood fossilized through magic into a stunning gem. " He added softly, almost to himself.

"I'm glad that you like it Harry." Blaise replied just as softly. "That is a pretty powerful focus you have against me if you want it. I'm trusting you with a lot." She smirked. "Which doesn't come all that easy for a Slytherin, so behave with that little bauble." Blaise leaned forward seductively. "What I really want to know is, does your _girlfriend _know you have a ring from another woman." she teased. "Most girls wouldn't be all that keen on their boyfriend wearing another woman's jewelry."

Harry blushed. Somehow that little fact hadn't come up between he and Fleur yet. "No." he answered. "I haven't told her yet. Besides," he added, "we haven't done anything for me to tell."

"Maybe I should tell her." She said with a wicked grin. Her voice was joking but there was a look in her eyes that told Harry she would in a second if she thought it would make Harry more likely to marry her. "What'll you give me if I keep our little secret?" she moved closer to Harry. He could felt the heat that radiated from her. In the back of his mind he wondered how she got to be so hot. Weren't vampires supposed to be cold?

A flash of dark rage flared up in Harry at the threat and he took a step forward. His face darkened and he snarled, "Don't you dare try to blackmail me. I care about Fleur and—well into his tirade he noticed too late the flash of recognition in Blaise's face. He realized far too late that Blaise hadn't known who his girlfriend was.

"The veela healer." She mused. "That's more competition than I would like but it's _doable_." Blaise purred. "I meant to ask you earlier, Harry, what did you think about my picture?"

Harry colored as he remembered the nearly nude picture of Blaise that she had sent him on his birthday, but with a vicious mental shrug he forced the image from his mind. "It was...interesting." He admitted. "But I'm still not interested."

"You can't take your girlfriend to the Yule Ball." She spat, suddenly vindictive. "Against regulations for anyone not of age to take someone who is, to a Hogwarts social function." She sidled close to the Boy-Who-Lived. "Why don't you go with me? I promise you a good time. A _very _good time." She finished with a seductive smile

Harry shook his head. "No. if I can't go with Fleur to the dance then I won't go at all. I won't let you trick me into going with you, either." He added.

All trace of seduction vanished from Blaise. "Why won't you give me a chance Potter? We could be _sooo_ good together. I could make you happy, I know I can. You even get training out of it." She asked pleadingly. "Is it because I'm part vampire? Does that make me not good enough for you, Harry?" She finished in a nearly broken voice, using for the first time, Harry's given name. "Please. You don't understand what kind of vampire my father is going to saddle me with." She begged softly.

Harry's heart tugged. He did like Blaise, liked her a lot even, but... "No, Blaise, I'm not going to marry you. I care about Fleur. _A lot_." He added. "It's not because you're a vampire, its not because you're a Slytherin, and its definitely not because I think your ugly. I just don't love you. I barely know you, so I can't marry you." Harry shrugged helplessly. "I deserve better than that. It's just the way I feel Blaise, sorry." Turning, Harry starting walking over to the door. He stopped at the entrance to the classroom and turned towards Blaise. "You deserve better than that too, Blaise."

The young Slytherin watched as Harry disappeared inside the classroom. The chime rang signifying the beginning of the next period, but she didn't move from her spot. No one saw the tears well up but fail to spill from her eyes. She spun around on her heel and raced down the hall towards her class.

* * *

"What did she want?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Harry shook his head, indicating he didn't want to talk about it. He took his seat in the back of the classroom next to Ron. Hermione once again sat one row ahead of the pair.

"So, any word about who the new History teacher is going to be?" Harry asked casually.

Hermione shook her head. "No. I tried to find out from Professor McGonagall, but she wouldn't say anything besides it would be a good surprise."

Harry snorted. "I need fewer surprises in my life, not more of them."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Ron joked. "I could think of a few good surprises for this class." He raised his hand in the air and in a mock sugary voice asked, "Professor Delacour, could you please explain the goblin rebellion of 1645 to me? Again." The class burst into laughter as the boys all agreed that a veela history teacher would go a long way to making them love the class.

"Mr. Weasley!" A very familiar voice called out from outside the room.

Harry looked at the classroom door disbelievingly. It couldn't be! "I am shocked that you can't recall what happened during the goblin rebellion of 1645. That was when the great goblin Huron Black Blood gave his famous wizard gizzard speech."

The class burst into excited whispers when they too recognized the voice, moments after Harry. It was into a hugely smiling class that Remus Lupin walked.

"Professor Lupin!" Ron exclaimed. "How could you hear me from outside?"

the rumpled looking teacher smiled and tapped his ear. "I hear like a wolf." The class laughed and Remus continued. "I'll be taking over Professor Binns class for the foreseeable future. I know this is just going to kill all of you, but we won't be talking much more about Goblin Rebellions. I think you've gotten your fill of those." He laughed. "I know in my fifth year I did."

Hermione's hand shot up in the air. "Then Professor, what will we be talking about and will we be fully prepared for the History OWL this year?"

Lupin smiled at the inquisitive witch. "this year we will be talking about several other countries closely related to Wizarding Britain as well as the cultures of magical nonhumans like vampires, True Elves, and veela's. And yes Hermione, there will be a significant culture section on your history OWL." He hopped up and sat onto his desk. "So, can anyone tell me which country in the world is the Ministries closest ally—besides Australia." He added, smiling when several students dropped the hands that they had raised at the beginning of the question. He motioned towards Hermione who kept her hand in the air.

"The United Wizarding States of America." She answered.

"Five points. Next question, Hermione. Who governs the United Wizarding States?"

"The Secretary of Magic," she replied, sounding confident.

"Incorrect."

Her jaw dropped, Hermione started to protest the teachers judgment. "Professor, I just read a book on the formation of the Wizarding States. It said that the Secretary of magic led the country."

"Was it the book by Hollisworth and Burkle?" Hermione nodded. "Hermione, those two writers are well known pureblood Historians. They're quite biased, and in the case of American governance, very wrong." He told her softly. "Anyone else?"

Harry slowly raised his hand. "Yes, Harry." Lupin called.

"The President of the United States." He said slowly. He remembered something that Fleur had told him about the US. "The secretary of Magic controls the magical part of the government, but wizards vote for President and congress the same as every other American."

"Nice job, Harry. Ten points to Gryffindor." He looked around the room. "That is correct. The United States is the only government in the world where Muggles and wizards live under the same government. Even if the Muggles don't realize it."

A Ravenclaw in the back of the class raised his hand. "Professor," he called out. "So wizards in America allow themselves to be ruled by a muggle politician?" he asked in disbelief.

"Sometimes." Remus agreed. "but it can also be reversed. Many of the oldest families dating back to the American Revolution are in fact wizarding ones, so sometimes the muggles end up being governed by a magical president." The young professor pointed his wand at the board and notes scrawled across the blackboard. "Get out your quills to take notes. The three branches of the Wizarding states are...

* * *

The final class of the day for the Gryffindor's was Defense against the Dark Arts with Professor Alastor Moody.

Hopefully, Harry mused, the real one this time.

This time Harry sat in the front row and Hermione and Ron joined him. The Slytherin's filed in the door and Draco sneered at the group but said nothing as he took his customary place in the back of the class. Harry noticed that Blaise rushed past him with barely a glance in his direction. She took a position in a corner as far away from Harry as possible.

The class started but the Professor hadn't shown up. Harry got a queer feeling in his gut. Irrationally he worried for the mutilated teacher. Something had happened to him before. Couldn't something happen again?

Harry was about to get out of his seat to track down a teacher when Headmaster Dumbledore walked into the room serenely.

"Hello class." He said unsmilingly. "I regret to inform you that Professor Moody will be unable to teach class today, so I am going to fill in for him."

A murmur rose up. None of them had ever been taught before by the headmaster himself. Rumors still circulated around the school about some of his antics while he had taught transfiguration.

"Everyone close your books. You won't need them for this lesson." The headmaster caught Hermione's eye. "Miss Granger, would you come up to the front of the class. I would like your help with a little demonstration."

Hermione flushed in pleasure and gladly stepped to the front of the class. She clutched her wand tightly, praying that she would be equal to whatever spell the headmaster wanted her to demonstrate.

"Thank you, miss Granger."

Harry noticed the headmaster looked graver than he had been in the past. The irrepressible twinkle that had been ever present in his eye was gone. He wondered what to make the headmaster seem so grave.

"Miss Granger, I want you to hop on one foot."

"Wha-...really?" she asked nervously. "You want me to hop on one foot?"

He smiled thinly. "I assure you that it's for a good cause."

The young Gryffindor bit her lip indecision, but nodded. Slowly she lifted up her left foot and began jumping up and down. She did so for several minutes to the giggles of the rest of the class and the absently smiling headmaster. Harry couldn't figure out what this was supposed to teach them about defense.

Hermione was starting to sweat because of the unaccustomed physical activity when Headmaster Dumbledore suddenly whipped out his wand and blasted a stunner at the hopping girl. The red bolt slammed into the unsuspecting student and flung her backwards.

"STUPEFY!" Moving as one unit, both Harry and Ron stood up and trained their wands on Dumbledore. The spell erupted forth from both wands and streaked towards the teacher. Dumbledore whirled around and deflected both spells with a shimmering shield the sprung from the tip of his wand without a word. "I don't know who you are," Harry growled after his spell was deflected, "But that was the last time your going to stun one of my friends." He and Ron resolutely kept their wands trained on the imposter

The headmaster smiled, this time both boys could tell it was genuine. "Weasley, Potter, both of you, take twenty points. Good instincts."

Harry recognized the gravely voice that had just issued from the great bearded mouth of the headmaster. Even as he recognized the voice, the headmasters bead started to retract into his face and his great mane of snowy hair darkened to a steel gray. His face twisted and took on the scared and unshaven countenance of Alastor Moody. The grizzled auror kept his eyes closed while he replaced the gaping socket in his head with a wildly gyrating magical eye.

With a flick of his wand and a muttered word, the retired Auror unstunned Hermione. Ron and Harry instantly took to her side and helped her back to her seat. She stared at the teacher with a betrayed look

"W-why did you do that to me?" she asked accusingly.

"Granger," the scarred professor growled, "two points to Gryffindor for doing exactly what I asked, but demonstrating poor combat instincts. Never let your guard down like that again." A snicker in the back of the classroom caused Moody's magical eye to train with precision on a rapidly paling Pansy Parkinson. "Find something amusing, Parkinson?" He waved his hand indicating the whole room. "I could have asked any one of you to do the same and you'd have been up here bouncing same as Granger. Why?" His voice dropped so low the entire class had to strain in order to hear the answer.

"BECAUSE YOUR ALL BLOODY FOOLS!" he suddenly bellowed.

The class jumped at the rapid change in volume and watched in apprehension as the teacher paced back and forth. "What I asked you to do was completely stupid, I had hoped one of you would have asked a question or refused to comply, but your failure was not unexpected. If I had asked you to jump out window you lot would have been lining up and flapping your arms on the way down. You trust too much and too easily. Its not your fault, its what your trained to do. Trust teachers, trust aurors, trust people in authority, it's what your instructed to do since you were babes in your mommies arms. But it's a bad habit—one that could get you killed. Do you really think everyone's got your best interests at heart?"

"Your wrong if you do." Moody stated bluntly to the silent students. "There's a war coming, kiddies. The last time Voldemort rose up, brother fought against brother, husbands and wives hurled killing curses at each other, families were torn apart, and best friends fought on opposite sides." He looked around the room. "You think those times aren't going to coming back, guess again. Things are going to get worse before they get any better and if you want to survive it, learn not to trust people in authority...you never know what kind of tattoos they have." He finished quietly.

A voice called out from the back of the class, "But professor, wouldn't the ministry tell us if You-Know-Who really was back? Me mum says that the rumors are a load of lies."

Harry shifted in his seat as the focus of the classroom moved to him. Everyone knew whose word convinced Dumbledore that the dark lord had returned. Harry studiously stared straight ahead, not meeting anyone's gaze.

Moody's scared visage twisted into a grotesque smile. "what's your name lad?"

"Seamus Finnegan, sir. You had me last year." The young Gryffindor looked confused at the lack of recognition by the Professor.

"Finnegan, is it?" The scarred professor walked through the row of desks until he reached the student. He seemed to loom over the Scottish Gryffindor and leaned forward. "You just proved my point lad. Voldemort is back and the Ministry is trying to cover its behind like a wizards who's just shot his own buttock off. Learn to see things for yourself and not blindly trust what the ministry and the prophet say. If you look beneath the surface, you'll see that while the Minster is decrying the return of the Voldemort, he's doubled the guard at Azkaban—he's just done it under the table. He's also lowered the requirements to becoming a Auror—also without explanation." The teacher looked around the room. "What do those two things tell you about what's happening?" he asked softly.

He let the class sit in silence and absorb his lesson.

"Pair up," he told the class after a while. "we're going to shield charms and stunners till the lot of you can hit what you aim at, like Potter and Weasley. You'll be ready for what's coming if it's the last bloody thing I do."

Slowly the class got to their feet and started pairing off. Harry paired up with Blaise who somehow managed to maker her way behind him without him noticing, while Ron and Hermione teamed up. Professor Moody stood at the front of the class and instructed the class in proper wand techniques for dueling. Not strip dueling like Harry had practiced over the summer, but real, life threatening duels.

Blaise shuffled her feet and spoke softly while Moody gave instructions. "Thank you, Harry. For what you said earlier, it means a lot to me." She smiled suddenly. "You're wrong of course, but thanks."

Harry just nodded before changing the subject with a smirk. "So Zabini, how's your aim?"

Blaise arched her eyebrow. "Is that a challenge I hear, Potter?" Both students stepped apart and dropped into a dueling crouch smiling at each other.

After the class was over, the students filed out of the class silently. Defense was always one of the most popular classes at Hogwarts because of the practical demonstrations and generally exciting classes. This time was different. Professor Moody—the real Professor Moody--added a tone of graveness to the class that showed the students what they were learning was real, the war that was coming was real.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed after class. Ron and Harry watched as Hermione studied the teacher who now sat quietly at his desk with his living eye closed and his magical eye fixed its penetrating gaze on the three students. Hermione squared her jaw and strode up to the teachers desk with conviction.

"I want you to know," she started quietly, "That I'm going to report you to the Headmaster. No matter what you want to teach, there is no excuse for attacking a student."

Alastor Moody opened his one true eye and his steely gaze met the immovable force of Hermione Granger. Slowly he broke out into a smile. "Ten points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger for standing up to me...eventually." He shook his head. "You think too highly of teachers, Miss Granger." Her eyes widened in shock as he continued. "Do whatever you feel you must, but I think you will find Headmaster Dumbledore singularly unsympathetic. How else did I get a hair from him for the polyjuice potion? Pluck it from his chin while he was sleeping?" the old auror snorted "No, Albus knew exactly what I was going to do today—even if he didn't like it, he still understood the need for it." He leaned forward slightly. "Think whatever you want of me, Granger, but remember the lesson."

"It _will _save your life one day."

* * *

_Dearest Gabrielle, _

_This is the first letter I have had the chance to write to you from my room at Hogwarts. The castle is not as inviting at Beauxbeaton, but what can you expect from a school that has doubled as a bulwark against the forces of darkness for Europe? It focuses on only the core subjects of schooling and does not support any smaller elective classes such as animation, crafting, or wizarding music. It is a dreary school, Gabby, dreary but strong._

_I think the worst thing about this school is the food. The food here is as appalling as I feared it to be. It is very...English. I do believe they have no sense of taste! Try and convince mother to send me some pastries with preservation charms on them so I do not perish from the lack of edible food. _

_But listen to me go on! I do not mean to say that there is nothing redeeming about Hogwarts, because there is. The library contains books and scrolls older than our entire school! I have free run of the restricted section and I can't wait to delve into some of the rare texts here. They actually have a copy of the Book of Days in the original veela! Mother will be so jealous!_

_Mademoiselle Pomfry is one of the best healers that I have even encountered. I know you were upset that I am so far away, I heard you complain about it enough, but do not be angry. It truly is for the best. I will return for Christmas and show you some of the healing spells and potions that I have learned. I will be finished with my apprenticeship soon enough and return home._

_I have also met someone. He is...He is..._

A frown line crossed Fleur's perfect features and she tapped her quill against the scroll she was writing to her younger sister. How to explain Harry? Gabrielle still nursed a terrible crush on the green eyed hero stemming from her rescue in the second task. Fleur loved her sister and she hated to tell Gabrielle about the new relationship with her hero. But it was Gabrielle! Fleur shared everything with her beloved sister and she was bursting to tell someone about Harry, and it was killing her that she was so far away from all her friends.

Fleur worried the end of her quill with her teeth, vainly attempting to think of a way to tell her sister about Harry Potter. She was startled when a sharp rap sounded at her door. She got up, tied her loose silk robe tightly about her narrow waist and grabbed her wand.

It was very late at night, far too late for a student to be up and none of the teachers had any reason to contact her outside of Madam Pomfry, but she had let Fleur leave the Hospital Wing early because no one had been injured yet so she could not practice her healing arts.

Fleur opened the door that led from her room to a Hogwarts Hallway and found no one present.

"Sshh, Fleur!" a very familiar voice whispered.

The beautiful healer stared in awe as her boyfriends head appeared out of thin air. "'Ow are you doing zis 'Arry?" She whispered.

"Let me in and I'll tell you." He whispered back.

She stepped away from the doorway and Harry's head floated inside. When he was fully in the room he twisted and a shimmering cloak pooled at his feet. Harry grinned at Fleur's surprised look.

"I did not know you 'ad a concealing cloak, 'Arry." Fleur said, once she had recovered.

Harry wagged his eyebrows in a mock leer. "I've got all sorts of surprises. In fact I have another one I'm going to show you right now."

"Now? But it iz nearly midnight. What could you possibly show me?" the blond asked.

Wordlessly Harry extended his hand and Fleur took it. He drew her in close and fanned the invisibility cloak around them both. "I hope you don't mind the closeness," he said seriously, "But I could get into a lot of trouble for being out this late."

Fleur felt her pulse quicken from their closeness. She could feel Harry's warmth next to her burn like a torch. His masculine scent filled her sensitive nostrils. She shivered slightly with desire very few men have been able to inspire in her "I will live." She replied breathlessly.

"Where are we going?" she asked again.

"You'll see."

* * *

Harry and Fleur crept down the twisting halls of the ancient castle. They moved silently past slumbering portraits and dozing ghosts. Harry and Fleur ended up in a corridor that was filled with paintings of food. Harry stopped Fleur in front of one particular painting. The beautiful witch looked around confused. What could Harry possibly have to show her in front of painting of pears?

"Close your eyes." Harry breathed softly into her ear. Goosebumps rising on her skin in anticipation, she acquiesced with his demand.

She felt Harry move away and then nothing for a moment until she heard a light creak and felt the space around her shift. A light tug got her moving forward.

Harry led her _somewhere _although she didn't know where. She was still confused when the smell first hit her.

Croissants! Freshly baked Croissants!

The warm scent hit her and her mouth started watering in desire. They smelt heavenly! She opened her eyes and looked around. They were in a huge Hall with five great tables arranged in the same order as the four house and one staff table in the great hall of Hogwarts. Around the edge of the giant room were stoves and tables. Brass pots hung from the walls. The Kitchen! She was in the kitchen of Hogwarts. All that she noticed in the first few seconds after she opened her eyes, but all that was forgotten in the next instant.

She saw Harry standing next to a house elf with smooth toad green skin and several hats perched precariously on his head. Great floppy ears peaked from the sides of the caps and he wore well maintained, if ridiculously patterned and colored, clothes. The creature stood, bouncing in place with excitement and staring at Harry almost worshipfully. They both stood next to a small round table with two seats across from each other. Piled on the table were golden flaky Croissants and strawberries. A bottle of wine, two glasses, and a pair of tall, lit candles completed the romantic setting.

"Fleur," Harry said looking up and smiling, "this is my friend Dobby."

Dobby...swooned. "Dobby is honored that Harry Potter calls Dobby his friend! Harry Potter is a great and kind wizard. Dobby is unworthy." His great moonlike eyes welled up. "Harry potter even wants Dobby to meet his Fleursies." In a few hopping steps he met up with Fleur and hugged her vigorously. After a moment of startlement, she returned the hug.

Harry smiled at the elf's antics. "Dobby helped me set this up for you." He motioned at the food. "Go ahead, try it. Dobby is a good cook."

Fleur looked at the wonderfully smelling food for only a second before covering the distance between her and the food in the blink of an eye. She reached for one of the perfectly cooked pastries while trying to avoid looking at the suddenly nervous house elf. Once she bit into the food she forgot all about her audience and simply moaned in pleasure. The croissant warm flakes filled her mouth and she savored to food with abandon.

"Dobby thinks Harry Potter's Fleursies likes his cooking," the house elf whispered to Harry.

"I think so too." The boy who lived whispered back.

"_Tre bein, _'Arry Zis is perfect. 'Ow did you do zis?" Fleur spoke through a mouthful of croissant and Harry noticed a few golden flakes that stuck to the corner of her mouth. It amused him endlessly that as proper and neat as she was, Fleur could be an absolute pig when it came to eating her native food. Yet somehow, most likely her veela charm, it was endearing more than anything else.

Harry reddened slightly and wrapped his arms around Fleur. She leaned into his strong embrace—while continuing to eat. "I knew you didn't like the English food and saw you picking at feast yesterday. We haven't gone on a real date yet so..." He shrugged and motioned at the small table laughed. "I even had Dobby break into Dumbledore's private stock. He had a bottle of your father's wine. You did say that you would show me how you wine snobs drink this."

Fleur noticed how nervous Harry looked. She knew that he had no prior experience with women, so this was his first attempt at a romantic gesture. And if Fleur was any expert with romantic gestures—and she was—this was definitely a sign of future promise as a seducer. Pleased that Harry had gone to all this trouble she proceeded to allay his fears. Fleur burst into a smile that seemed to light up the room and threw just the slightest hint of veela aura behind it. Her bell like laughter banished the nervousness from Harry's belly as she clapped with glee.

"Zis iz amazing, 'Arry." She told the boy who lived sincerely. Her heart melted at the smile that lit up his face and the sparkle in his eyes. Inwardly she sighed. There were times that he seemed so old, so mature...so powerful. Other times she was reminded of how young he actually was.

Fleur picked up the bottle of wine and glanced at the label. "Zis is a very good year." She said. "My Grand-Papa made zis wine." Expertly she popped the cork and set the bottle down. She tisked at Harry. "And I am not a 'wine snob', I am a wine connoisseur."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Why aren't you pouring it yet."

"Zee wine needs to breathe." She replied.

Harry noticed her blues eyes—which were normally so bright—seemed to darken to a midnight hue. She stared at him and he was caught—most willingly--by the spell she unconsciously wove about her person. Lust rose up in him called up by her beauty and aura, an experience he had known before. Veela's were powerfully empathetic, and they sometimes unconsciously projected their desires onto their partner as part of a mate gathering instinct. They stood frozen, emotion and desire building a bridge of crackling tension between them. The tension was broken when Fleur attack Harry with her lips. Hungrily she kissed him and teased his mouth with her tongue, nibbling lightly along his lip. Harry responded with natural talent honed by a month of sneaking kisses with his clandestine girlfriend. He could feel her arousal from beneath her sleeping gown and tightened his grip on her.

The pair stayed locked together for a long time before she broke away, flushed. Harry had indeed progressed to O work. Straightening her light robe, Fleur sent a seductive smiled in Harry's direction and poured the wine into two glasses.

"Zee wine is finished breathing and I zink we needed to start again." Fleur laughed.

Together they drank deeply and sat down to eat.

* * *

_He is a wonderful person Gabrielle. Our relationship is new but it feels very old indeed. He is a powerful wizard and sweet as well. As I was writing this letter he surprised me with a bottle of wine and some truly delicious food that he had made just for me! After our tete a tete I decided to ask him over for Christmas and he accepted. I can just imagine how surprised you must be! I am always so careful about keeping my boyfriends away from family. You will understand one day when you come into your full veela powers, although I hope less painfully than I. I must confess that we are more serious than I thought we would be right now but such is the way of the heart. I cannot wait for Mamma and Papa to meet him. I know what they think about my dating habits but no matter, they will simply love him once they meet him._

_Like I am starting to._

_I miss you little sister. I miss our midnight whispers and out shopping trips. I miss you smile, and your artwork. I love you Gabrielle, but I must end the letter here because it is very late and I must begin work on blood replacement potions early tomorrow . Give kisses to mother, father, and our little brother, for me._

_Your big sister, _

_Fleur Noel Delacour_

* * *

A few general notes about the previous chapter. Yes, Draco was a little OOC, but I did that on purpose. He truly loves his sister and she is throwing him off his game. I am not going to redeem Draco in this story, but there is a wide specturm between Death Eater and redeemed good guy. Will he turn on his own sister...

Will Ron turn on his when he finds out what ginnys been up to...

Please don't tell me what you think Harry's animagus form should be. I already know what it is and its a magical creature of my own creation, so don't bother guessing. you'll find out around chapter eighteen.

On Psyche. A few people have called her a Mary Sue which I think is a little ridiculous considering how little you've seen of her yet. Yes, she is a great beauty...or she will be when puperty finishes with her. Yes she has great power, more than any other character in story...or she will once she gets fully trained in a decade or so. She is also a scared little girl who loves her stern family and wants to make them proud but finds it hard because of her soft nature. For gods sake her only friend is Luna Lovegood of all people. trust me, she serves a plot point and is a fully fleshed character.

Anyway, enough with the soap box. Read and review. especially with Moodys class and Fleur at the end. Tell me what you think. I can take it...I hope :)


	11. School Daze Part Two

Harry Potter and the Litany of Blood

By Phoenixgod2000

Ch 12—School Daze, part 2

Casting

Hermione Granger…Emma Watson Draco Malfoy…Tom Felton

Blaise Zabini…Kiera Knightly Psyche Malfoy…Dakota Fanning

Ginny Weasley…Lindsay Lohan

* * *

_Second day of Class_

The frozen early morning grass crunched beneath the feet of the trio as they made their way across the lawn to the edge of the Forbidden forest where Hagrid was holding his first Care of Magical Creatures class.

"There's a sign ups sheet for the dueling tournament in Great Hall." Ron said casually. "Reckon we should sign up at lunch?"

"I don't know." Hermione said ruefully. "After Defense class I don't know if I want to get hit with another stunner."

"It's not that bad. The referee puts a spell on your wand which weakens all of them and you also have on spelled pads which protect you even more." Harry grinned at Ron. "I'm signing up. There's no way I'm passing up the chance to hex Malfoy without Snape crawling down my throat."

Hermione eventually agreed to sign up after a little more persuasion from the boys. The three joined the rest of the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Hagrid hadn't shown up yet so they waited around. They didn't have to wait long.

"He didn't!" Ron gasped in sheer disbelief.

"He couldn't. The Governors would never let him. Right?" Hermione's voice was unsure of herself because the evidence was right in front of her even if she didn't want to believe it.

"He did." Harry's voice was resigned with the realization of yet another dangerous creature for class courtesy of Hagrid's skewed sense of interesting.

Hagrid was walking up the path with a thick steel chain entwined around both of his hands. The other end of the chain was a collar around the neck of a dog like creature with a mixture of coarse russet and black fir. Its body was squat and overly developed with docked ears that lay flat against its skull. Small tuffs of soot puffed with regularity from its nostrils and baleful red eyes gleamed hatefully out of deep set sockets.

Hagrid had brought a hellhound to class.

* * *

Her name was Daffodil.

Hagrid had brought a female hellhound to class and her name was Daffodil.

The class actually went by rather smoothly other than Daffodil lighting the bottom of Pansy Parkinson's robe when she got too close to it. Hagrid lectured the class on the various habits of the hellhound and they took notes. Harry was amused to notice that for once Ron was paying as much attention as Hermione in class. Apparently his summer with the dragons had given him some motivation to learn—in at least one class.

After the class Hagrid called the trio over.

"It's good to see ya." The half giant told them enthusiastically. "I 'eard ya got ta visit Charlie in Romania, Ron. 'elp out with the dragons an' all."

Ron nodded enthusiastically.

"I was wondern' if ya could talk with me first years." Hagrid said. "I never got any chance to work on a preserve and I think it could do the young 'uns good to hear about it. 'Specially from some'un their own age."

Ron was flabbergasted. "Really!"

Hermione was stunned. "Really?"

Hagrid beamed. "Really."

* * *

Ron was still beaming as the trio made their way to Charms, their second class of the day. They were nearing the classroom when they heard a massive explosion coming from Professor Flitwicks classroom. Harry glanced quickly at Ron and Hermione and as one the three raced towards the classroom with their wands drawn.

What they saw when they reached the classroom stopped them cold in their tracks. The damage done to the class was unlike anything they had ever seen—and they'd seen Neville in Potions. Every chair in the classroom was _imbedded _in the ceiling. They had flipped over, and their legs were stuck several inches in the stone. Desks had flown against the wall and several had cracked in half from the force of the push. Students were flung haphazardly around the room. The diminutive professor was buried beneath the stack of books he normally stood upon. Standing in the center of the room was Psyche Malfoy, looking for the entire world a student terrified of being expelled.

Her wand was held in a white knuckled death grip—and smoking.

* * *

Dumbledore soon showed up and put the class to back to rights with a fairly impressive display of cleaning charms. After sending a few students to the hospital wing the old headmaster whisked away Psyche and sent the remaining first year Ravenclaws onto their next class.

Professor Flitwick heroically tried to keep command over the class of fifth year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors but could not quiet the class long enough give anything other than the most cursory instructions. The remaining class time was chaotically spent going over the syllabus for the rest of the year and practicing previously learnt charms.

After the class was over the trio began the long trudge to the dungeons for the joys of Potions. While they walked the topic of discussion swiftly turned to the events just before their first charms class.

"I tell you she's a Malfoy. She knew exactly what she was doing!" Ron insisted.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed in exasperation. "Didn't you see the look on her face? The poor girl looked terrified. Probably thought she was going to be expelled. When Dumbledore walked in she turned pale as a ghost."

"'Mione, you met Malfoy as a little bugger. He was rotten through even as a first year. His sister's no better." Ron turned towards his other best friend. "Harry, you're with me, right?" he pleaded.

Harry looked straight ahead and didn't answer for a few seconds. Instead he began hopping from moving staircase to moving staircase making his way down the animated flights. "Did you see the look on her face, Ron?" He asked eventually in a quiet voice once the others had caught up.

"No."

"I did." Harry whispered. "I've seen that look before. I wore it my whole first year. Scared that I would never do anything right. Scared that people would suddenly see that I was a fraud, that I could never the great wizard that people expected me to be." Harry met Ron's gaze and the taller youth was frozen by the stare. "She's scared too," he continued, "Scared that everyone is going to see her the way you're seeing her. As nothing more than a Malfoy."

After that Ron had nothing to say.

* * *

The dungeon of Hogwarts filled the bill of scary underground prison perfectly. Dark, dingy, just a little bit wet. The tiniest drops of condensation could echo like thunder in those unhallowed halls. There were rooms and corridors that split from the main causeway like capillaries and none of the trio could fail to envision terrible fates for those who strayed off the main path way. Even the Slytherins had their tales of the foolish who strayed too far.

And the Potion Master of Hogwarts fit the look of head jailer perfectly. Tall and emaciated, Severus Snape had the pallor and yellow teeth of a life long dungeon dweller. His scowl could paralyze a first year at fifty paces and a seventh year at twenty.

He had preyed upon Harry Potter all of the youth's years as a student at Hogwarts. He had insulted and belittled the Boy Who-Lived openly and Harry had always accepted it. Part of it was due to his status as a teacher but more than a little was a result of Harry's fear of the embittered man.

But as Harry watched the wizard strut back and forth in front of the classroom he realized that he wasn't scared of the wizard any more. In fact he seemed more than a little pathetic to Harry as he realized for the first time how sad a figure Snape really was.

No more was he a wizard to be fearful of. He was a thing to be pitied. A creature that was truly contemptible in every way a man could be

"I've been thinking," Snape hissed. "About the poor potions marks over the past four years from the Gryffindors in this classroom. Something must be done"

He surveyed the class, straying slightly over Neville Longbottom. The young wizard shifted in his seat and Lavender patted his hand comfortingly. The teacher snorted and shook his head before resuming a frenetic pace, his midnight cloak billowing about his thin form.

"Maybe he ought to teach us properly." Ron muttered. "Instead of just picking on Neville and Harry."

Hermione hushed him and Snape gave Ron a quick glance but continued as if he weren't interrupted. "I've hit upon an idea to improve the sorry lot of your grades." He smiled sinisterly and Harry knew that whatever it was, he wouldn't like it. "I'm going to assign laboratory partners. And in the interest of interhouse cooperation I will use one person from each house." He glanced around the room daring a Gryffindor to speak against his policy. When none spoke up Snape began reading off names. He saved the trio for last.

"Hermione Granger. Gregory Goyle."

Hermione gave Goyle an appraising look. She quickly shot a despairing glance at Ron and Harry after glimpsing what passed for thought in the huge Slytherin.

"Ronald Weasley. Draco Malfoy."

Ron and Draco traded sneers.

"Harry Potter. Blaise Zabini."

Harry turned to look at the seductive Slytherin only to find her looking at him innocently. Far too innocently to be actually innocent. Harry hung his head. Couldn't he just have one normal year?

Snape smiled at the boy who lived and Harry could clearly see that the potion master knew exactly what he had done. The teacher surveyed the room and snapped, "What are you waiting for? Pair up!"

* * *

Blaise Zabini watched with a frown as Harry Potter packed up and left the dungeon classroom with speed he normally reserved for the pitch.

How was she supposed to seduce him if he wasn't going to stick around? She had traded several favors with her head of house to get him to agree to pair her up with her erstwhile intended fiancé.

It was actually quite amusing that the head of Slytherin was so amenable to bribery for all sorts of things one might need at Hogwarts. Professor Snape did a brisk business in unusual potions, contraceptives, and books of dubious repute with students of his own house and a few of the braver Ravenclaws. Ironically the only thing he refused to even consider tampering with was Potion grades. Whether it was professional pride or a streak of Gryffindorish honor, Severus Snape refused to give Slytherins any aid in his classroom that he would not give to a student of another House.

In Blaise's case, all she had to do was agree to break into her father's ingredient cabinet and give her Professor some rare elixirs of vampiric blood her father carried therein. In return she got to be Harry Potter's lab partner for the remainder of the year.

As big a risk as stealing from her father was, it was necessary for her plans to marry Harry Potter. The revelation that the competition for his affections was the part veela tri wizard champion from the previous year was surprising to say the least. She had feigned more confidence than she actually felt when she talked with Potter. Blaise was not a modest young woman and knew that she was sexy, beautiful, and talented. Not to mention half vampire, this came with its own set of benefits. She would put herself up against any normal student of Hogwarts and feel confident.

But a veela?

Why couldn't Potter have fallen for that fleshy little weaselette? But, No! He had to go and fall for a beautiful, older woman who was part supernaturally beautiful faerie. Veela didn't get fat; they didn't get pimples or blemishes. They didn't have bed hair and didn't need to put their face on in the morning. Veela were preternaturally attractive and no woman could compete against one who had their fey blood. The only thing Blaise could compete with her on was on longevity. Years were equally light on both women. The beauty of both the quarter veela and half vampire would last for centuries longer than other women could even hope to live. Despite that benefit, Blaise realized that she wouldn't have much of a chance against the platinum blond unless she stepped up her game.

Which just so happens to be what she was about to do.

"Potter!" Blaise called out. She followed the boy who lived out into the dungeon corridor.

He turned around and so did his two attached-at-the-hip-with-sticky-charms friends. Blaise grimaced inwardly. This would take some finesse.

"What Blaise?"

He sounded resigned. That wasn't good. It meant that she was starting to be seen as a nuisance. Blaise reached inward and felt for the vampire magic that flowed through her veins.

_Bingo_

"I just wanted to tell you that I like Potions class and I don't want my grade to suffer." Blaise said. Inwardly, once she reached the core of her magic she pushed it outward, reaching for the frozen blood Harry was wearing around his finger.

"I think your going to have a little problem with keeping up your grade with me as your partner."

Blaise pushed her magic, weaving a spell of attraction around her specifically designed for Harry. He was a necromancer; she had necromantic power roving through her veins. It was a powerful primal connection. It wasn't hard to feel his desires bubbling upwards.

_Was that a blush? Hah Hah!_

Blaise wove the gossamer strands of the spell, all the while trying to stay focused on the talk she was having with Harry. It wasn't a love spell. She couldn't compel his obedience or obeisance, and she didn't want it anyway.

That would make Harry boring.

All she wanted to do was feed the necromantic beast inside the boy wizard. Give herself the same edge that little veela nurse had. The spell she was weaving was going turn her into Harry's own personal vampy veela. It would be easy to make sure Harry alone noticed her increased attractiveness since he was wearing her ring within his aura. That meant she had a way to link up to him and only him, despite her lack of full strength vampire magic. Vampires possessed formidable powers of enchantment and although hers were lessened they could be brought to bear upon one person easily enough—and Harry easiest of all. Her father did this sort of thing all the time. It's what vampires did.

Sure it was cheating, but so was being a damn veela.

"Well Potter, I want an O on my OWLs this year so we're going to have to figure something out because I'm not going to sacrifice my grades for you."

_Omygoddess_

Something was wrong. Pleasure exploded beneath her skin so powerfully it caused pain in its wake. Energy flashed backwards along the connection through her own magical core creating a feedback loop torturous pleasure. Fire burned along her nerves. Her skin tingled from the energy she was drawing back from Harry. She felt her own desire rise up and through its haze she saw that Harry was similarly affected. Blaise fought the urge to fall to her knees in front of the boy who lived. A tiny voice inside her told her to submit, to bow to her lord…her god.

_I bow to no one_

"Harry? Harry, are you alright?" Granger's bushy head bobbed up and down as she surveyed her friend. She looked suspiciously at Blaise and started to lead him away.

Blaise placed a hand on the wall to steady herself. The compulsion began to dissipate with the distance between her and Harry Potter. Gathering her strength she broke the loop with Harry's magical core. Meanwhile Hermione and Ron were leading Harry away. He was stumbling like a drunk. His skin was flushed and his eyes were too bright. She could feel the heat of her own flesh radiating outward and could only assume she was similarly affected.

"Harry will talk to you later, Blaise." Hermione called back. "He's not well now. We're going to take him to the Hospital Wing."

Blaise nodded weakly. She had nearly lost herself inside his power. The necromancer within Harry was a tidal wave of power and control. It took everything she had to keep her head above its awesome commands. Still, when the trio was gone she let herself smile slightly. The plan worked—if less than perfectly.

_Who needs stinking Veela charm_

_Not me

* * *

_

Harry had thought Severus Snape was the cruelest teacher at Hogwarts and the evidence of the last potions class paid truth to that belief. He was, but not the strictest.

That honor went to Professor Amanda Vector. With her prominently displayed Ravenclaw colors, large beak-like nose, and long neck, she resembled a blue pelican as she strutted back and forth through the class. Her severe features reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall without the Gryffindor teacher's underlying decency and kind heartedness.

Professor Vector had no underlying decency. It was rumored among the students who'd taken her class that she had wanted to go into private spell research but due to unnamed conflicts she had been unable to get the job she wanted. This left her teaching Arithmancy to students at Hogwarts. Hardly the life of pure research she had been envisioning for herself.

Harry was late to class because of his unscheduled trip to the hospital wing. He slid into his seat with a blush as professor Vector stopped her lecture to watch him.

"I'm sorry for being late." Harry apologized. "I was in the--."

"Mister Potter." Professor Vector interrupted. "I sincerely do not care were you were a few moments ago. What matters is you were not in my class which is where you should have been."

"I'm sorry but--"

Was this teacher another Snape? Was he ever going to catch any kind a break? Harry sank lower in his seat while the teacher spoke and every student in the class trained their gazes on him. Out of the corner of his eye saw Hermione looking at him sympathetically.

"But nothing Mister Potter. I took you into my classroom because the headmaster and your head of house assure me that you have a mind located somewhere in that head of yours. I've looked past your scores despite your less than impressive showing. Still, Professor Dumbledore tells me that you have been studying Airthmantic principles and will be able to keep up in class."

"I have been" Harry answered. _Please don't ask me anything_

"Then tell me Mister Potter, what are the three laws of Transfiguration?"

"Ummn…the first law is all things and qualities can be transfigured…if you know how." Harry answered slowly. Damn! He just read this recently. "The second is…is all things transfigured can be reversed. The third is…the third is…" Harry struggled to find the last one but he shook his head. "I don't remember the last one."

Professor Vector considered him with flat eyes. "The Third law is the Principle of Similarity. Like changed to like is easier than to change like to unlike." She gave him a thin lipped almost smile. "Not bad Mister Potter, not bad at all for a neophyte. I will expect better in the future, but not a bad start in the least." She glanced off to the side of Harry. "Miss Granger you will assist Harry and bring up to the level I expect of a fifth year in my class."

Hermione nodded and reached out to squeeze Harry's hand comfortingly.

* * *

_Metamorphmagi are wizards with a unique ability. They possess the ability to channel their magical core through their body and transfigure it without the use of a wand. While major transformations such as switching gender or gross physical changes (adding tails, wings, gills, etc) are possible for Metamorphmagi, they do not last a long time and may not be functional if the metamorph is not exceptionally skilled and knowledgeable in the particulars of anatomy. Lesser physical changes can be held indefinitely and many Metamorphmagi turn themselves into paragons of physical strength and beauty._

_There are as many internal benefits as external benefits to metamorphmagi. Their strength and stamina are frequently much greater than a wizard of similar size and shape because of the changes they can make to their musculature. Some skilled metamorphmagi can survive grievous physical injuries by shifting around their organs. They typically have perfect eyesight because they are able to fix any imperfections in their eyes with ease not possible to other wizards and Muggles. Similarly they have perfect teeth and rarely suffer from problems such as organ failure. A metamorph is capable of living three or four times longer than other wizards thanks to their increased ability to fix wear and tear on their bodies and remain youthful in appearance throughout their life._

_The first known Metamorphmagus in Britain was Morganna Le Fay, a sorceress of incredible power and rumored to be an ancestor of Rowena Ravenclaw. The famed witch is believed to have used her gifts to appear as the wife of her half brother Arthur Pendragon in order to steal his seed and give herself a son of great magical and physical power. _

_But enough about boring history and magical biology! This is So You Might Be A Metamorphmagus! You don't want read about all the cool things that other metamorphs can do. You want to know if you are one so you can be the one to do cool things with your body. Well, the test to see if you're a metamorphmagus is an easy one. All you have to do is…_

"Umm…Harry?"

Harry Potter snapped Tonk's gift shut with a suddenness that sent Neville Longbottom three feet into the air. For a moment he was filled with rage over his studies being disturbed by the chubby Gryffindor. Several spells he had never heard of drifted in front of his eyes and he knew the effects of any of them would insure that he would never be bothered again by the shy teen wizard. Forcing down the dark feelings and the insidious knowledge that it called up from the depths of the magic core he had taken from Voldemort, Harry smiled at his year mate.

"What's up, Neville?"

The chubby young man pushed a lock out of his muddy brown hair out of his eyes. He smiled weakly at Harry. "I was wondering if…uhh…"

Harry sighed. "Just say it Neville."

"You know that dueling tournament…I…umm…kinda signed up for it. And I heard that you had, you know, gotten some training over the summer with dueling and I was hoping that you...Ahh…wouldteachmeafewthings?"

Harry blinked. Then he blinked again. "You want be to teach you tournament dueling?"

Neville nodded. "Well, me and Lavender. She signed up too. Neither of us knows how to duel with rules and stuff."

"Why?"

Harry could not imagine Neville being even the slightest bit interested in dueling like that. He was too soft hearted. He should be spending his time in the greenhouse with Professor Sprout instead of dueling. Lavender was just as big a surprise. After all, if you duel there was always the chance of breaking a nail.

Neville blushed. "Lav. Malfoy made some comments to her that weren't…nice. I want the chance to beat him in the tournament and beat him bad."

Now that made sense. No way was Neville going to lie down and let Draco Malfoy badmouth his girlfriend. Even a timid Gryffindor would never do such a thing. Harry searched his face and saw resolve. The normally shy young wizard possessed steely determination—well, as steely as Neville got—and seemed resolved on learning how to duel properly.

"Alright, I'll show you what I know." Harry agreed. "Let me figure out some times we could meet once Quiddich gets started and I'll do it."

Neville smiled hugely. "You won't regret this, I swear Harry. If I get to Malfoy I'll knock him out proper."

Harry watched Neville run up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. Somehow he knew he would regret agreeing to that.

* * *

_Blights of Darkness—A History of Necromancy_

_By Agatha Bones_

_Necromancers have a justifiably wicked reputation in the Wizarding World. From the times before recorded history down through the times of Babylon and Solomon, Necromancers are the holders of the force of death in the world. While any wizard can deal death through a variety of curses and spells and even Muggles can cause death with frightening ease through their weapons, no one has the intimacy with that most inescapable force that a necromancer possess dominion over. They can inflict it, heal it, and destroy it. They walk in a world of spirit and live in a world where the dead are near to the ones they love…and hate._

_It is a power that no mortal man or woman can possess with impunity._

_That is reflected in the inherent instability of necromancers. Their powers are dark and even the most kindly of wielders will succumb to the darkness within eventually. Some will last decades or even centuries but they all do in the end. Man was not meant to control death._

_There have been efforts to stabilize the power of death lurking within necromancers for millennia. The races of Dementors and Vampires were born of failed attempts at this. To date no necromancer has ever been completely successful. And the ones that experienced partial success always paid a price for it. In the case of dementors, it was happiness and humanity. In the case of vampires, it was the loss of the flexibility of traditional wizardry and the hatred of the sun itself._

_In my studies of the earliest necromancers of Egypt I came across fragments of papyrus which were the journal of a necromancer/seer named Anzac-Su-Ra. She laid down an ancient prophecy I believe speaks of a whole necromancer. By whole I mean one who possesses power over life as well as death. Such a being would be balanced and I believe not have the pressures a master of death alone would have. I was only able to translate the few words from the prophecy fragments which survived the more than three thousand years since it was made. The words were White, Veil, and Divinity._

Hermione Granger shut the book with finality that seemed to seal the fate of her best friend. The book from the restricted section was a collection of scrolls written on various obscure subjects. And it proved to be most useless. There was nothing in the tome about training or ways to stave off the corruption endemic to necromancers. There wasn't even any background information that led her to believe being trained by a vampire could even help Harry.

The whole thing just seemed so damn…random.

She tried to rub the strain out of her eyes. This didn't make any sense. Why would the headmaster even entertain the notion of marrying off Harry if the vampires couldn't train Harry? Save him? There had to be something she was missing. Dumbledore must have some plan, hadn't he? What was he playing at? More importantly what was she going to do? Could she really tell Harry that he was basically doomed unless he maybe managed to fulfill a prophecy that wasn't even complete and probably had nothing to do with him?

Hermione wanted to believe that the headmaster could save Harry. Protect him, maybe even take Voldemort's power out of him, but she didn't. Last year the triwizard tournament debacle had removed whatever beliefs she had in the headmaster's infallibility. Still, there had to be something. The headmaster would never abandon Harry. Maybe she could talk to him to see if he would tell her what he knew. She had to keep _some_ faith in Dumbledore

Hermione sat in the silence of the library and thought. She was one of a handful of students that was allowed to stay in the library after general closing time. Most of the time she found the silence comforting, conducive to learning when the rowdiness of the Gryffindor common room got to be too much, but tonight she found the quiet to be oppressive. It mirrored the silence in her thoughts. Books had failed her. She simply didn't know what to do anymore. Harry's problems were outside her limited ability to help.

But there was still one thing she could do. She came to a decision and began to pack her bags. _Harry must never know_

He needed the hope that ignorance provided.

* * *

Draco Malfoy nibbled on the edge of his quill, a display of nervousness he never would have allowed himself had any been looking.

He was nervous because he was sitting at his desk about to compose a letter to his father. A letter he dreaded writing because it was about his sister. His beloved sister.

Beloved wasn't a word that Draco would have ever though he would use, even within the safe confines of his own mind. Love wasn't a Malfoy word; it was weakness that Malfoy's were to avoid at all costs. Something that should be excised whenever possible.

He didn't love his father. Respect him, yes. Admire him, yes. Love him, no. Nor did he love the woman who bore him. He had certain affection for his mother and respected her as well. He would even be willing to risk in small ways for her, but a large sacrifice, No. He had been too well bred for such cares. A Malfoy must only think of what was important for the greater glory of the bloodline, and the Wizarding world. In that order.

Which was why he was surprised that writing this letter about his youngest sister was so damn hard. As far he could remember Psyche had been the one spot of brightness in his otherwise status and Slytherin conscious existence. She had been a giggling, happy child that not even the gloomy Malfoy Manor could destroy. Draco could remember how surprised he was when his father did nothing to taper her more excitable events. His father explained to him once he got older that if he was too hard on Psyche it could affect the expression of her magic. So the youngest Malfoy was left to her own devices and experienced much less parental stifling than Draco did as a child.

Instead of creating animosity between the two of them, it actually brought them closer together. Psyche still learned the Malfoy mask, but instead of hiding her cunning, it hid her joy for life, her love of everything that her family found offensive. Draco was pleased to see his sister happy. It fanned sparks of emotion he thought were long since abandoned within his own heart.

If he wrote this letter that would all change. Their father would crush everything he loved in Psyche in order to make her more malleable. The young dragon wasn't stupid he knew that the wild magic of Psyche was a sign she would be a great wizard, perhaps even an archmage. His father would force Psyche into tortuous training designed to bring her to her full strength but destroy her soul.

Still, he was a Malfoy and his father was counting on him. Would it be better for Psyche to be in the hands of Dumbledore and his idiotic beliefs? The old man was going to destroy the Wizarding world through his coddling of mudbloods and half-bloods. With her beauty and strength, a mature Psyche could help to bring the world back on track.

The quill was a weight. A loadstone in his hand which weighed on his mind. He knew that if he did this his sister's life would never be the same. On the other hand there was the fact that she was in Ravenclaw and not Slytherin where he could keep an eye on her...

Slowly the quill began to scratch out words onto the page.

_Dear Father…

* * *

Well, here it is. The latest chapter of my Opus. I hope it was worth the wait. I have two more chapters nearly finished. One will be posted tomarrow and the third will be up on thursday._

I want to thank Vekkel for his insights. He has really helped me to renew my focus on this story and he deserves a lot of credit.

So read, review, and tell what you think. I get inspired by your reviews so please help me out. You'll never know whatit means to me when I get postive feedback.

As an aside check out the following stories if you haven't already.

Black Kisses, Harry Potter and the Return to Youth,Harry Potter and the bonds of love, and Hollow. allof these on on If you like my story, check them out. and then leave a review for the author. they all deserve more than their getting. Plus if they're at all like me it helps them write faster


	12. Kissing Games

Harry Potter and the Litany of Blood

By Phoenixgod2000

Chapter 12 Kissing Games

Casting

Fleur Delacour…Valeria Maza

New cast member

Cho Chang…Zhang Ziyi (next appearance ch14 mating game)

* * *

_Several weeks after the last part_

"_Legimens." _

The headmaster's level voice echoed through the small round chamber as invisible force slammed into Harry's mind. It was an odd sensation, the feeling of the spell running through his mind with the seeking tendrils of an underwater creature. A mental tentacle slid through his thoughts with cold efficiency and Harry vainly tried to picture a wall shoving the tentacle away.

He failed and watched as the Headmaster saw Professor Vector lecture Harry on the spell proofs and pair him up with Hermione to 'get him up to speed.' After a few seconds Dumbledore broke the spell and both men sighed in relief as the spell left them.

"What did you do wrong?" The old wizard asked Harry once each had caught their breath.

Harry thought for a moment. "Your spell kept shifting focus and I couldn't keep up. I tried too hard to protect some of my memories and left other ones totally vulnerable. I need to keep all of them guarded."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very good, Harry. Such mental control will control in time, but you did a good job for today. Your mental strength which allows you to throw off the imperious curse serves you well in Occulomency."

"Can I try one more time?" Harry said determinedly. He pushed the headache he was feeling out of his mind and concentrated on his mental shields.

Dumbledore saw the resolve on the boy's faces and reluctantly agreed. He pointed his wand at Harry and muttered, "_Legimens_."

This time Harry was ready for the spell and Dumbledore met with fierce resistance. He could feel the spell being repulsed from his mind and sensed the tendril directly connected to _something_. Eagerly, Harry followed the tendril and fell into thoughts that were not his own.

"_I need you Dumbledore." The cold voice of Damien Nightshade sounded like frozen silk in the intimate confines of the headmasters office. "My vampires are dying to protect the litany and soon enough Voldemort will find have found the shrine where it lay. I don't need to tell you what could happen if he gets his hand on my holy book."_

_Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Indeed not, King Nightshade. Voldemort would get access to the most sacred arts of your kind, and unlike myself, possesses the necessary ability to use those arts to the fullest."_

"_Hid the book here. Protect it behind these fancy wards of your founders." The king's voice was grave. "I cannot protect it. My powers…my powers are not suitable to this task." It was plain how much that admission cost the vampire but he persisted. "My magic does not have the breath of yours."_

_Dumbledore nodded and the king brought out a book wrapped in ebony velvet that drank in the light within the office. The very air seemed darker around the wrapped item than elsewhere._

"_The Litany of Blood will be safe at Hogwarts; I swear It, King Nightshade, of the Nightshade clan."_

Harry watched the handover until he felt an outside force drag him from the vision. Suddenly he was back in his body and Dumbledore was staring at him with some concern.

"The Litany is here?" Harry asked in disbelief. "The king who wants to control my life came here bringing with him a book that could teach me what I need to know and you didn't tell me?"

"The book cannot help you Harry." The wizard replied calmly. "It's not a training manual for necromancers. It's a tome filled with spells of ancient and terrible power. It is not magic for you as you are now…and maybe not ever."

Harry looked away, sudden angry that Dumbledore was holding him back. The anger quickly subsided but it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Cheerfully, Dumbledore said, "You did well to turn the spell against me in any case and I think that should be enough for tonight." His eyes twinkled, "After all I don't want you to be tired for quiddich. I believe tryouts are tomorrow and you will want to be awake enough to cheer on Mister Weasley. I myself am quite fatigued and wish to retire. Testing young Miss Malfoy has proven to be more taxing than I anticipated."

"Draco's little sister?" Harry echoed. "For what?"

"Psyche Malfoy is quite the enigma. You saw what occurred during her charms class. I tested her to see if there was something wrong with her magic. I used the same aura sphere that I used on you." The old headmaster grew serious. "She broke it. Split it down the middle when I sampled her aura."

Harry wrinkled his face. "What does that mean?"

"It means, Harry, that Psyche is quite possibly the mightiest potential witch I have ever encountered. Her magical core doesn't appear to need a focusing tool to cast spells."

"Magical core?"

"Wizards and witches require a focus for most types of magic. A wand or a staff for European wizards, other types of talismans for magical people in other countries." Harry still looked confused so Dumbledore expanded further. "Think of magic like light. Our cores are diffuse light. The magic is too unfocused to do anything other than when our emotions manage short bursts of focus which are exhausting and virtually uncontrollable. A talisman focuses the magic tightly into the spell woven. Much the way muggles can focus light into lasers. Psyche needs no wand or any other such talisman, her magical core focuses without the crutch the rest of us need. In fact her wand's own focusing ability disrupts her spells. That's what went wrong in charms."

Harry sat in silence as he digested the new information. Hesitantly, he began to speak. "Professor, if Draco's sister is so powerful, would Voldemort want to…" He left the end hanging, unable to figure out what dark purpose Psyche could be used for by the Dark Lord.

"Indeed, she could be." Dumbledore agreed. "I cannot imagine that Tom is not interested in Miss Malfoy although for what I could not say. Perhaps breeding? Any children Psyche will have will no doubt prove to be as gifted as she." Dumbledore stifled a yawn. "And now I must retire, Harry. I'm not as young as I used to be."

Harry nodded and he and Dumbledore walked out of the small room the headmaster has provided for their training. It was a small chamber in one of the far towers of Hogwarts that had been unused for decades. Dumbledore had called it a meditation chamber. It had been designed for a visiting teacher from Cambodia ages ago who taught Astral Arts, a difficult branch of magic that involves mental control and iron-clad meditative skills.

"I will see you later," Dumbledore said with a smile and twinkle. "Remember Harry to do your exercises before you sleep and every day when you experience emotional swings. We must figure out a way of controlling your dark powers. I will see you in two days for another session. If you need to use the meditation chamber feel free, you know the password to let you in."

Harry nodded and walked a different way. As soon as the headmaster disappeared from his view, Harry rubbed his temples.

His head was killing him.

* * *

Harry cheered as Ron blocked another goal. The tall redhead looked faintly ridiculous on his old broom as he blocked his fifth shot by Alicia Spinnet. His growth spurt had clearly left him in need of a new broom better fit for him. Still he was doing phenomenally. The star chaser darted like an arrow using every chaser trick she knew but Ron was ready for all of them. His skill was all the more amazing when Harry took into account the sluggishness of Ron's old broom.

The Weasley family athletic ability and Ron's personal obsession with Quiddich had stewed together to form an awesome Keeper. Of the four trying out for the position Ron clearly stood out as the far and away superior athlete aside from one seventh year student who was also trying out.

Harry meanwhile hovered in the air, secure in his position as seeker. Anyone could try out for any position, including one that was filled, but nobody was fool enough to take on the Boy-Who-Lived's snitch hunting skills. Harry watched as Angelina blew her captains whistle to call back the chasers. A quick waved summoned Harry back to the ground.

"So," the captain and head girl began, "What does everyone think."

"Ron," Alicia said immediately. "Terrence Biggs is bigger, stronger, and has a better broom, but Ron gets this game on a more fundamental level. His instincts are better and his physical skills aren't much worse than Biggs. He'll grow into the position and Biggs will have to be replaced in a year anyway."

Katie Bell nodded. "I think Ron too."

Angelina looked over at Harry. "What do you think o' star seeker of ours?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm biased, but I think Ron is best."

The team captain didn't even bother to consult with the Weasley twins. She knew what they would vote. Instead she raised her voice and called over the keeper wanna-be's. "I want to thank everyone for showing up but our new keeper is going to be…Ronald Weasley. Terrence Biggs will serve as substitute. Keeper."

Ron let out a whoop and the other Gryffindors shook his hand. He walked over to the rest of the team, his team and smiled widely at Harry. "Nice job out there, Ron," Angelina said roughly, "But you can do with some improvement. Practices are every Monday-Thursday at four. And you have to keep up your grades or you're off the team."

Fred and George wiped at imaginary tears. "Our ickle Ronniekins," they cried out as one. "Keeper for the red and gold. Mum'll be so proud." Together they drew him off as the team started to go into different directions. "Now its time for your initiation into the team." They said together with a smile.

"Initiation?" Ron's voice cracked slightly with fear.

Harry found it almost comical that his friend, who outsized his brothers by several inches, seemed so terrified of his stout older siblings.

"Don't worry," George crooned.

"It's painless," Fred added.

Together they finished. "Mostly."

* * *

_Several weeks later_

Ron was whistling as he walked back alone from a late practice. Life was good for the last of the Weasley males. Classes were decent and even Malfoy was less that totally annoying during potions. His Quiddich skills were progressing every practice and best of all; Susan Bones had decided to get a jump on their Hogsmead date by dragging him into a few broom closets for a few snogging sessions. Who knew Huffelpuffs were so much...fun?

He was in a little used section of the castle when he heard the sniffles. He was alone because Hermione had decided to spend some time at the library and Harry had claimed he wanted to spend some time by himself. He'd been doing that a lot lately and Ron was starting to think that Harry had a secret girlfriend.

Not that he cared, unless Harry was dating Malfoy.

He was walking down one of the hallways, having decided to take a long way to Gryffindor tower in order to delay having to do homework when he heard echoes of a child's cry. He stopped and looked around. The cries seemed to be coming from a small alcove. They were high, thin, and didn't seem to be the cry of someone who needed physical help. He tracked the echoing cries until he stumbled on the source of the crying.

Psyche Malfoy.

The young Ravenclaw sat forlornly on the steps of the staircase with her thin legs drawn tightly against her chest. Her silver hair was dirty and hung limply over her face like a stained satin veil. When Ron's shadow blocked out her light she looked up and wiped the hair from her face. Her finely drawn features were blotchy and red rimmed her eyes. She immediately fixed her face into as much of a blank mask as she could manage on short notice.

"Hullo." She said evenly.

"Uhh…hi?" Ron ventured hesitantly. Of all the things he expected to encounter, Draco's little sister was far down the list. Truth be told, until her outburst in Charms he hadn't thought much about her since Draco had approached him and Harry for protection. He wanted to turn around and walk away but he didn't.

She just looked too damn much like Ginny.

Not that there was a physical resemblance to Ginny, because there wasn't. Psyche possessed an ethereal quality that was nearly the opposite of Ginny's earthy physical presence. It was a spiritual resemblance, a sort of natural innocence all little sisters seem to possess…the quality that made brothers want to protect them—shield them from the world. Ron couldn't help but remember Ginny as a tiny little first year wandering around the halls of Hogwarts. Did she cry in an alcove over a diary, praying that someone who cared would come along?

Almost before he could think, he found himself folding his height onto the stairs next to the girl. "What's wrong?" He asked softly.

"Nothing." Resolute.

Softly. "Everything."

"Like what?"

She wiped at her eyes with hands still a little grubby from Herbology class that day. There were still smudges of dirt on her sharp cheekbones. "Everybody hates me. I can here them whispering about me in the halls because of what happened in Charms. The teachers won't let me use my wand so accidents won't happen anymore. Today in Herbology Sandy Simpson threw dirt at me. 'Cause I'm different." Psyche made a mocking noise. "Stupid mudblood," She spat bitterly, although she spoke the insult awkwardly, as if unused to the word passing her lips.

"Luna says you get used to it, but I don't want to get used to it." Psyche whispered plaintively, all trace of racist thoughts or bitterness disappearing from her voice. "I don't want to get used to everyone staring at me. I don't want to get used to people hiding my things or destroying them because it's nicer than what they have. I just want to be like everybody else, have friends, be…normal."

Ron started. Harry was right. She wasn't like other Malfoys. "Do you know who Harry Potter is?" he asked.

The pixyish Ravenclaw nodded vigorously. "Draco says he's a poofy git."

She said it with such earnestness and innocence that Ron couldn't help but laugh. There was fire beneath the uncertain exterior. "He isn't." Ron disagreed. "He's very nice to everyone because your brother because Draco actually is a git."

Psyche slammed a tiny fist into his shoulder in outrage. "He is not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

Ron and the young girl were facing each other. The pain in her eyes had disappeared and fire replaced it as the two of them argued back and forth. They stared at each other so fiercely that Ron started laughing. Psyche's mouth was flat with anger at first but soon saw the humor in the situation and began laughing herself.

"The point I was trying for." Ron said once again after he had regained control over himself, "Is that Harry has the same problem. Nobody sees him as him. They just see the scar. Sometimes they hate him and sometimes they want to be his friend, but it's never because of who he is. So I do understand. You just need to make friends who will see the real you. Luna is a good start…I guess." Ron said hesitantly. The strange fourth year, while a nice girl, would not be someone he would pick to be his friend if he could choose.

"I guess." Psyche whispered. Expectantly she looked up. "Are we friends now?"

Ron hesitated, but the hope in her eyes was infectious and endearing.

"Yeah, I think we are." He finally admitted.

"Goody." Impulsively she threw her arms around Ron's shoulders and hugged him. "What's my new friend's name?"

Ron started. "Ron Weasley."

She put her hand to her mouth in shock. "You're a Weasley? Wow, Draco calls you names almost as mean as Harry Potter's."

"Does he?" Amusement laced Ron's voice.

She nodded her head vigorously. "He says awful things about you to me. Which is weird 'cause he's almost never mean around me."

Ron wondered about that. Could Draco want to shield his little sister from the harshness of the wizarding world? How unslytherin of him. Ron realized that he could burst Psyche's impression of her big brother if he wanted. It would be easy to do, but he wasn't going to crush any little sister's beliefs when it came to their big brother.

Not even when the brother was Draco Malfoy.

"I think you're just his weakness." Ron ruffled her hair. "I think little sisters are every brother's weakness."

* * *

"Potter, you cannot combine essence of murtlap and crushed nightshade seeds." Blaise flung her hands into the air. "You're hopeless Harry."

She and Harry sat in the library going over their potions homework. Harry expected there to be some kind of awkwardness, an uncomfortableness born out of their last encounter which sent Harry to the hospital wing. He knew that she had something to do with the explosion of pleasure and pain he had experienced several weeks earlier after their first potions class.

The thing was, there wasn't any awkwardness. Blaise had been nothing but kind and professional with Harry. They had worked together on their potions work with the usual teenage banter but none of Blaise's trademark lasciviousness. Harry had found himself missing the banter.

Much to his own amazement.

"Blaise." He said abruptly. She looked up and they met gazes.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you being like this?"

She looked down. Suddenly despite the presence of the other students in the library and the ever present form of Madam Pince she was feeling vulnerable with Harry.

"What do you mean?" she asked quietly.

"This. You haven't made any remarks about us, about the marriage. Nothing. Its…kind of weird."

Blaise stood up abruptly, the chair skidding back loudly. The Librairan scowled in her direction but the half vampire witch paid her no mind. She pulled Harry to his feet with an iron grip. She dragged him deep into the stacks. Her eyes shown with passion as she cornered him. She advanced on him with a hungry look. Pressing her lips to his, her tongue flickered into his mouth and they dueled for a moment. Harry's hands found their way to her buttocks and he gripped the globes of her rear with fearsome strength. He could feel her passion rise and he drew upon in to fuel his own.

Eventually, sense finally returned and Harry pushed her away.

"What was that?" Harry's pupils were dilated and his heart beat painfully in his chest.

Blaise looked different. Her pale skin was luminescent, moonlight made flesh. Her eyes were like the deepest blue of the oceans depths and her hair was the color a black velvet sky. She was more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen with the exception of his veela girlfriend. In fact there was something distinctly veela-like quality about her

"That's a taste," Blaise whispered, "Of what you could have if we were together. I would be yours, to use in any naughty way you wanted. You're a necromancer, I'm a vampire, and our powers are as one. I knew you would miss this, Potter. You can feel it, can't you? Our connection?"

Harry could feel power rise up within him and the answering power within Blaise. This time Harry initiated the kiss. He pushed her against the wall and began to maul her savagely with his mouth. There was nothing tender about what they were doing. Nothing sweet or romantic. It was simple, primal, need. Energy crackled with soundless force around the two of them. He lost himself in the sensation they were creating.

And then he thought of Fleur

Harry broke off the kiss with Blaise. He was startled to see that her eyes had turned red and tiny fangs protruded from over her lip.

"Thas my Harry," she lisped.

Harry shook his head. "What did you do to me? This isn't me."

Blaise smiled. She looked normal once again. "Oh, but it is you, Harry. It's more you than you're willing to admit. I didn't do anything you didn't want to do. Admit it Potter, you liked it. You like us."

"You did something to me." Harry pointed accusingly at Blaise.

"I evened things up a little." She shrugged. "Competing with a veela is hard to do."

"You're not in competition with Fleur, Blaise. I don't want to date you."

The female half vampire leaned against the bookshelf and smirked. "You mouth says no, but your tongue says yes."

* * *

A while later a very confused Harry tracked down Fleur in the Hospital wing. He found her pouring over a half written scroll of healing magic. She looked up when he entered and smiled wearily at him. Her fingers were stained with ink and her platinum hair was pulled in bun with a few messy strands caressing her swanlike neck.

"'Arry? What are you doing 'ere?" She asked.

"I just wanted to see you." He answered casually.

"You should not be 'ere. Madam Pomfry does not like anyzing interrupting my studies." She scolded. "I do not wiz to get into trooble again wiz Mademoiselle Pomfry."

Harry was struck by her tone. She sounded annoyed by his presence.

"But I wanted to see you." Harry repeated, wounded by her dismissal.

Fleur sounded irritated. "Unless you get 'urt, I will not be able to see you every zey. I just 'ave too much to do wiz my studies."

"Fine." He said flatly. "I'll go. But are we still on for the Hogsmead weekend?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. Now shoo!" She motioned with her hands.

Harry left, hurt by her dismissal. He found himself missing Blaise.

She wouldn't have turned him away.

* * *

Much later that night Harry found himself sitting alone in the fire lit common room of Gryffindor tower. He sat reading his Arithmancy textbook by the light of the flame. Despite the necessity of glasses to fix his nearsightedness he had discovered that one of the lesser powers of a necromancer was near perfect night vision. The flickering light of the fire provided him all the light he needed to read.

It was nice, he mused, to be able to have some silence for once. Gryffindors were probably the most boisterous of the houses and tonight had been particularly rough. Ron had overhead Hermione telling Lavender that she had gotten a date for the upcoming Hogsmead weekend. Terry Broot had asked her to accompany him to hogsmead on Saturday. Ron—despite having a date with Susan Bones, a hufflepuff—loudly decried Hermione for dating out of the house. The resulting argument was epic—even by the standards of those two.

The end result was that Harry got very little of his homework done. Luckily he now needed very little sleep and was making good headway on Arithmetic proofs of Positive energy when a slight cough startled him. He looked up and smiled.

"Hey, Gin." He noticed that they youngest Weasley was looking particularly fetching that evening. The fire lit her pale skin and her red caught the light of the flame and seemed to shimmer with its own internal heat. Even her eyes, which he had never noticed before, shone in a way that was most unusual.

And quite fetching.

"Hey Harry. Can I talk with you for a sec?"

"Sure." Harry made room for her on the couch. "Why are you up so late?" He asked while she arranged herself on the seat. He took notice of her smooth cat-like motions that were almost hypnotic with their seductiveness. The heat from the fire had warmed the rune she'd given him for his birthday and its warmth lulled him into lassitude…

"I wanted to talk about Hogsmead." Ginny began. "Wouldn't it be fun if we could go together?"

_It would be fun_ Harry realized with sudden clarity. Why hadn't he ever asked Ginny before to go to Hogsmead? It was such an obvious choice. She had red hair. His mum had red hair. Everyone said he was like his father. Maybe he should find a redhead too. Besides Ginny would be a lot of fun. They could visit Honeydukes and get some candy then see the quiddich supplies. Maybe they could go to Madam Puddifoots and…

Harry suddenly shook his head. What was he thinking? He had plans with Fleur. While Ron and Hermione were occupied, he would be able to have some private time with his girlfriend out of the castle. Maybe find out what was the matter with her. He glanced at Ginny who looked so hopeful. She had leaned forward to hear his answer. Her robes had fallen away from her neck exposing a generous expanse of freckled flesh. He swallowed and the necklace around his neck burned angrily. There was an answering flare from the ring he wore around his finger.

"No, I already have plans." Harry answered.

A frown crossed her face. "_Kiss me!_" she demanded in a commanding voice. The strident tone echoed like a bell in Harry's mind. Involuntarily he leaned forward, tensing at the thought of meeting her sweet lips.

Then his scar began to burn.

It was as if a white hot poker was shoved through his scar and into his skull. The pain banished his amorous desires. Harry stood up, half blind from the agony. "I-I-I can't do this."

Turning, Harry fled up the stairs leaving Ginny to stare in helpless frustration.

* * *

_He was walking purposefully down a torch lit hallway_

The stone was cool beneath his hand. He was in Hogwarts. Something was wrong. His head hurt. Scar burning. He heard the patter of foot steps up the girl's hallway. Ginny.

"_Lucius." Harry whispered silkily. "I am personally going to attend to the temple."_

"_Of course, my Lord. With you we cannot fail." Lucius Malfoy bowed low._

Why was Lucius Malfoy bowing to him?

He put his hand on the wall and doubled over as his body began to spasm. The visions started come faster. The halls of Hogwarts disappeared from his wavering, pain twisted gaze. He tried to create a wall to shield his thoughts but the bricks cracked into nothingness long before he could build his defenses.

"_I want the Litany of Blood, Lucius. It is vital to my plans that I possess the blood magic of the vampires."_

"_The vampire priest will not hold against our forces. A dozen of our most dangerous Death Eaters and two dozen war trolls should be able to handle the monks." Lucius added with a smile._

Where was he? Flailing about blindly Harry felt the stone of the wall beneath his hands. He made a fist and slammed it into the stone. Over and over again, his hand crashed into the wall. Blood stained the hallway and Harry's hand became a mass of bruised, mangled flesh. The pain drove him out of the first person perspective so that Harry saw Voldemort speaking to Lucius instead of himself.

Pain works, Harry realized. Steeling himself he bit down on his lip. Salty blood filled his mouth but the vision started to fade

The vision continued to wrack Harry even as his crushed hand and swollen lip helped to anchor his spirit. Lucius and his lord continued to speak and Harry's scar continued to burn. Even through his pain Harry knew that the plans of the Dark Lord meant nothing good for vampires or the Wizarding world in general.

Turning around, with the visions burning in his mind he began to stumble back to the common room. One thought dominated everything.

_I have to see Blaise

* * *

_

Well, second new chapter in as many days. Yay for me! I hope everyone likes it.

Read and Review. Come on people! I know that more than ten people are reading this story. If you read it leave a review and tell me what you think. Even a simple good job would suffice. reviews inspire me, so please leave one.


	13. The importance of History

Harry Potter and the Litany of Blood

Ch13

By Phoenixgod2000

* * *

Damien Nightshade slipped from the bed he was sharing with his current amusement. A muggle fashion model named Sarah…Sandra…something like that. Mottled bruising decorated her neck and breasts, a map showing the feeding patterns of the amorous vampire king. She shifted in her sleep and burrowed deeper beneath the silken sheets of the bed.

Damien padded nude onto his balcony, uncaring that he was exposing his body to the public and cold night air. He stood at the railing and stared up into the heavens. The distant lights of suns to far away to cause him pain twinkled in the sky and not for the first time he wished he could take all of his people into the heavens and leave this cold, dangerous world behind.

Voldemort hadn't killed a vampire in weeks, but that didn't comfort Damien at all. Instead the vampire king was pensive; worried the Dark Lord was planning something against his people. He could feel energy gathering, like the crackle of a prestorm just waiting to break.

He closed his eyes and let the sounds and smells of the city wash over him and tried to forget for a while about Voldemort, darkness, and the war that was rapidly becoming inevitable.

He almost succeeded.

The king's thoughts turned towards a certain green-eyed child who was proving to be a pivotal figure in the conflict. Idly he wondered if his daughter was making any headway in seducing Potter. He guessed she was. He had after all paid for the finest tutors in the arts of sex.

Had to make her marriageable somehow.

Thinking about Harry made Damien reflect on his parents. He actually had liked James. Admired him for his strength, ability, and ego that nearly proved the equal of his own. That of course wouldn't have stopped him from killing James for defying him but he would have felt bad about it.

Lily was a different story.

Oh, how he hated that red headed harlot! She had been, he admitted privately to himself, a stunning creature. Her skin was a flawless cream without the hint of freckles; a rarity in a natural redhead. Her hair was a deep rich red, not the orange of that clan of wizards who insisted on breeding like rats. Those eyes of hers were the most striking. The color of flawless emeralds! Still, despite her beauty, he had always been unsettled around the muggleborn witch. He got a sense of Déjà vu whenever he was around her. The sense that he had met her previously, but he knew he had not known her until she stole James out from under him. It was an unsettling feeling.

Damien's thoughts were still lost in the past when he spied a small figure break through the clouds and began gliding towards him. Long before the creature reached him he recognized his daughters Vargbat. The ugly creature served much the same function as owls for the vampire community.

Vargbats had bodies the length of ferrets wrapped with long sleek fur that came in a variety of dark colors. Their hideous faces were broad and pinched with tiny bat-like ears and circular lamprey mouths filled with serrated teeth. Large translucent leathery wings traced with veins kept the thing aloft. Clutched in this particular creature's—incongruously named princess—fore claws was a scroll bearing the wax seal of his daughter.

With one hand he broke the seal and began to read the message. Absently he extended his other hand and bent his wrist causing the veins to stick up. Princess latched onto the wrist and began to feed off the king's blood with a slightly disturbing slurp. Damien growled when he completed the message and flung it to the floor. A small flash of power and the message burned to nothingness.

Voldemort going after the Litany of Blood. Attacking the sacred temple which had held it for millennia was an outrage that would not be allowed to stand. He pulled the vargbat off of his wrist and mentally commanded it to leave. Gathering his power he quickly glanced at the sleeping beauty in his bedchamber. It was a good thing he had fed recently. Traveling the Bloodpaths was damnably hard work even for him.

With a soundless explosion of magic that corrupted the pleasant dreams of model in the next room, Damien Nightshade disappeared in a flash of bloody light.

* * *

_Hermione Grangers Notebook_

_Defense against the Dark Arts—Vampires, their strengths and weaknesses._

_First thing. Vampires are born not made. It's not like muggle movies or books. You can't become a vampire by drinking their blood. Or at least you can't become a lucid vampire that way (Ferals later)._

_Vampires possess physical capabilities greater than any other mortal race. They can shatter cinderblocks with their fists, move with such grace and balance they can perform gymnastics on slender ropes with ease, and recover from wounds as fast as mortals can inflict them. As a result of their great powers they have greatly extended life spans (600-800 yrs long)_

_Their senses are greater by several orders of magnitude, in particular their sense of taste and smell are heightened to levels nearly incomprehensible to humans and other magical races._

_They are natural Animagi, although they have a limited selection of forms. Rats, wolves, ravens, bats, and other low creatures are all possible forms although no vampire may have more than one of them._

_They have ability with mental domination equal to that of the imperious curse. Most of them must use eye contact although particularly powerful vampires can use their voice or even sheer force of will alone to entrance victims. Likewise many of them can use an aura of emotion similar to veela although not as strong._

_Vampires possess a unique form of wandless magic. Their magical blood acts as a the enchanted focusing tool instead of a wand, giving vampires a great deal of personal magical power but only in a limited focus. It is unknown at this time the exact limits of their powers. Vampires have been known to master most forms of mental magic's including astral arts, Legilimency, Occlumeny, and even more obscure arts. They have a limited form of Apparation called simply walking the bloodpaths. Some vampires have demonstrated other wizardly abilities such as seeing or Metamorphmagi although such vampires are beyond rare. A few vampires even have a unique shaping gift of their own called bloodshifting. Such vampires can assume the forms of any creature whose blood they sample._

_Ferals are wizards or muggles who've drunk a significant quantity of vampire blood. It does grant the many gifts and weaknesses of the vampires but at the cost of the drinker's humanity. They become little more than beasts consumed by terrible hunger. Left to their own devices they would simply kill until destroyed, but vampires have found they can use their magic to control the beasts, creating a formidable shock troop that is quite difficult to kill. Although ferals are illegal in nearly every ministry across the planet, huge numbers exist as survivors from previous vampire/wizard wars._

_As strong as vampire are, they possess weaknesses nearly as great…

* * *

_

_Somewhere in the Himalayas_

_Twelve hours later _

The mountain pass swirled with snow. White purity capped the ancient domain with only an angry black slash of a portal marred the beautiful site. It gapped like bleeding wound on the side of the mountain. The black figure of Voldemort stepped through the wound, snow turning to steam around him with the strength of his warming charm. The dark lord frowned when he noticed the distance between the portal and vampire temple. He had opened a portal as far as he could but even he could not open one within the wards of the temple.

The ancient vampire temple was several hundred more paces up the mountain. Four great pillars of marble, gleaming like old polished bone, framed the entrance of temple. Four steps led up to the platform the temple was on. Shadows lurked around the pillars forbidding either light or snow from desecrating the sacred place.

Turning away from the sight, Voldemort watched as his troops walked through the black portal. He held the threads of the gate spell tightly, ignoring the cries of the world's pain as he kept the wound open so his death eaters and cannon fodder could pass through it. The robin's egg sized ruby capping his greasy black archmages staff glowed with sinister red light that cast a benign pinkish shadows across the snow.

The first through were the twenty muggle British soldiers he had placed under the imperious curse. The men were armed with modern automatic rifles and light clothing. The curse inured them to the feeling of cold, if not the damage caused by it, not that it mattered since they weren't going to survive anyway. While a lesser dark wizard could place one or two under the curse at once, a wizard of his own formidable abilities could control two dozen at the same time.

Next out of the gate were two dozen war trolls armed with rune carved silver axes. Voldemort had enslaved several powerful dwarven rune smiths solely to create the ensorcelled weapons for his nonmagical troops. The huge creatures stood in ranks, ignoring the freezing temperature with the fortitude possessed solely of the truly stupid.

His death eaters, the first of his valued troops came next. Black robed, wrapped in their strongest warming spells, the death eaters stood and took in their surroundings. One broke away to stand near his master.

After the death eaters, thirteen white robed teenagers stepped through. Blanked faced they marched towards the front and formed two lines behind Voldemort and the death eater beside him.

Voldemort staggered when the last being stepped through the portal. The magical tear wept energy and the earth itself groaned beneath the footsteps of the approaching creature. Every mortal, death eater and muggle, shuddered as the thing's shadow passed over them.

A blood fiend.

A demon infected with the same necromantic energy as vampires and Dementors, blood fiends were few and terrible in number. Torn wings dribbled steaming blood onto the pristine snow. Its body was a subtle creation of shadow and blood, seeming to possess mass and physical presence yet in fact, the absence of both was the truth of the thing. Its grim face was dominated by eyes, horns, and fanged mouth glimmering with trapped light. It was a creature of nightmares and death, yet it cowered in front of Voldemort. Its shadow seemed to shrink in on itself and it waited for its orders.

Lucius Malfoy extended a trembling hand forward. It stopped when it reached the boundaries of the ward and the air itself rippled with trapped potential energy.

"Lower your hand, Lucius. These wards are not for you to destroy." The dark lord smiled at his lead servant. "That's what we sacrifices for."

* * *

_Hermione Grangers DADA notes cont..._

_Vampires are one of the mightiest of the true magical races in terms of magical and physical power but their weaknesses are equally crippling._

_The greatest weakness is the light of the sun itself. Sunlight burns vampires like strong acid and even the greatest of them can only protect themselves from the sun for mere moments before they are slain by the light. No one really understands why that is, but it is a fact. Even the great founders of the vampire clans could not withstand the light of the sun._

_Half breed vampires are immune to the damaging effects of sunlight although even they find it uncomfortable and become reduced in power while in direct light._

_Their diet is a close second. Vampires drain the magical energy inherent in the aura of ever person through the medium of blood. They have hollow retractable fangs to extract that blood and their saliva is capable of causing their own teeth wounds to heal. The problem with their diet is that it only human blood can suffice. Animal blood does not nourish them at all. That puts enormous pressure on vampires to keep their populations in check and can often make feeding difficult during times of strife. _

_Thirdly, silver is death to vampires. Wounds inflicted by silver weapons heal at rate similar to normal humans, and silver can be used to poison them as well._

_There are a number of poisons and herbs that, while harmless to humans, are quite deadly to vampires. The dread poison called the Killer of the Dead is particularly virulent to vampires and kills them quite slowly. There are rumors of a cure, but no hard evidence. No ministry is interested in finding a cure to one of the efficacious tools at their disposal._

_Wizards have come up with a number of spells to protect themselves from vampires. They range from the easily cast to the fiendishly difficult. There are wards which bar vampires from homes and spells to prevent them from feeding on wizards. One spell even exists to create a mobile field of sunlight around a wizard which works on vampires as effectively as real sunlight._

_Perhaps the most limiting effect of vampires is their low birthrate. Vampires have few children, and the ones they do have take longer to gestate and longer to mature. As a result vampires do not have the population for a large takeover or a country of their own. That is the main reason why vampires, for all their arrogance and elitist attitude, live as parasites on Wizarding and muggle society.

* * *

_

The thirteen virgins moved to front of the column. Death Eaters closed ranks around them and with a flourish removed their light robes. Every last one of the young sacrifices was nude and hairless beneath their robes. A dark mark, placed by Voldemort himself, was burned over their heart. The dark lord watched them with interest. Every last one of them was a study in youthful beauty and he would have loved nothing more than to amuse himself with both the boys and the girls but he needed them to be virgins more than he needed to engage in debased acts of physical pleasure.

There was powerful magic in virginity and there was even more power in the destruction of that bodily purity. Voldemort drew a phial from in an inner pocket of his robes. The potion was a concoction of first bloods and hymens of the virgin girls and seed from the males along side basilisk venom and powdered yew. He drank it down in one smooth gulp…

Pain exploded in his body. The venom of the Basilisk traced fiery trails through his body. Every breath he took was an explosion of searing agony. It was all he could do to support himself with his staff and not collapse into a fetal ball…slowly that pain transformed into something different. Glorious. Gold, not poison, flowed through his arteries. He could _feel _the magical cores of the sacrifices behind him. He felt the white purity of their strength. He was a god. He could do anything. Destroy Hogwarts. Annihilate Dumbledore. Rip the soul from Harry Potter. It was all possible with the golden energy suffusing him…

Giddy with the power at his command, Voldemort tried to focus it on the wards shielding the vampire temple. But when he drew on their strength he found something blocking him. Frowning, he tried again. Then he realized what it was. He had gotten ahead of himself. The sacrifices were still alive. Their cores were still bound to their flesh. The Dark Lord spat a single blasphemous syllable and every one of the virgins collapsed to the ground in a boneless heap.

Power now filled him without obstruction. Voldemort raised his staff and golden flame erupted around him in a flaming aura. Lucius was blasted backwards and his master shot into the air with a blazing contrail following behind.

Lucius watched in amazement as his master hovered seventy feet in the air and leveled his staff at the temple. A ray of molten gold shot from the tip and struck the temple. It seemed to cause no physical damage to the structure but Voldemort continued to focus the ray on the temple. Ripples of nearly invisible magic wavered around the temple grounds.

Wards that have held since the fall of Atlantis fell after eight seconds of assault.

Voldemort drifted gently to the ground, his red eyes still gleaming with golden fire. He turned to the Blood Fiend. "Animate the bodies." He hissed. "They shall enter the temple first. Let them die for the cause…again."

* * *

_Hermione's notes on vampire history (Lupin is the greatest teacher!!!)_

_The history of vampires begins a few centuries after the fall of Atlantis. The wizards that survived the fall of their great civilization scattered to the four corners of the earth. Some decided magic should never be used again and melted into the crowds of muggles (are muggle born descendants? just a pure as purebloods? Ask pro about later). Others used their powers to carve out kingdoms of Muggles and lesser wizards. This was a long time before the civilizations that muggles believe were first. One class of wizards stood out from the rest._

_Because necromancers have a nearly unlimited lifespan (What!! Check this out with Harry) they had much more time to perfect their arts. Soon (a few centuries) Great Necromancers carved out the greatest of these wizard kingdoms. Eventually they began to war with one another as well as other wizards._

_The Great Necromancers fought terrible wars with each other and elder races that lasted millennia. Legions of zombies and demons dueled armies of humans and wizards. Countries were devastated. Whole peoples were wiped out. They performed experiments that created new races and beasts to be used in their wars. Under their watchful eye, towers of obsidian and pyramids of bone were shaped and housed their dark libraries. Arcane death magic swept continents and devastated the nascent civilizations of the muggles. That was when the greatest of the necromancer kings sought a way to end the wars before they rendered the world lifeless._

_That leader was Vlad Lukonis Dracula…

* * *

_

With a gesture of his staff Voldemort caused a vampire that ventured too close to burst into flame. He surveyed the battle and frowned. The vampire temple had proven to be more formidable than he had guessed. There were many more guards than the vampire he tortured had admitted to.

The interior of the ancient vampire temple was as astounding as he knew it to be. Gems and rare metals gilded the main chamber. Huge statues of the thirteen founders framed the walls. Alcoves and crannies pocked the walls leading to only Merlin knows where. A tunnel, flanked by the statues of the two great vampire luminaries, Dracula and Set, led to the Litany chamber. He could feel the stain of its magic upon the world, spreading like a slowly bleeding wound.

The zombies and muggle soldiers were all dead, but they had killed their share of priests and Bloodguard. A few of the trolls were down but each of the dead trolls had killed at least six vampires with their runebound silver weapons. The death eaters he chose were all skilled duelists and none had yet been killed. The blood fiend was the most devastating, having killed at least two dozen vampires by itself.

Still, they were losing. More vampires kept pouring from alcoves and side passages. Damien Nightshade himself was leading the vampire side of the battle, though he could not reach Voldemort in order to duel him. It did not take long for the embattled Dark Lord to realize that somehow the vampire king had known he was coming. With a frustrated curse Voldemort started towards the hallway that led towards the sanctum of the Litany.

From the corner of his eye he saw Damien flare up with blood red power and confront the blood fiend. Out of nowhere, the vampire demon had produced a sword that seemed made of forged blood. The huge demon swung its blade at the vampire king and somehow Damien caught it in his bare hand. The demons own aura flared up, locking the two powers into a struggle that was more spiritual than physical. Around the motionless monoliths the battle raged onward.

The Dark Lord shivered. He had no desire to go against the vampire king. In his own way he possessed magic every bit equal to himself. Moving swiftly he wove several personal wards about his person designed to protect him from any magical vampire traps that might guard the tome.

The Litany of Blood was nearly his.

* * *

_Hermione Grangers notes cont…_

_The Necromancer King sent out messages to the greatest of his contemporaries. Fifteen messages were sent out and thirteen agreed to meet._

_In a sacred place in the mountains they met and discussed terms of mutual cessation of hostilities. No one knows what was spoken of that day but somehow Dracula convinced his contemporaries to invoke a rite of extraordinary power in the hopes of transforming them into godlike beings._

_It was ambitious magic on a level which had not been contemplated since the destruction of the homeland they all remembered. _

_But Dracula was persuasive and they agreed…

* * *

_

The hallway was covered in frescos of various stories from vampire mythology. Rich colors and lifelike pictures told the story of Black Mirror and her empire of blood in what would be Mexico. The pictures showed a tiny girl, appearing no more than fifteen, in a dress of brilliant green feathers and dusky hair that hung to her waist, in the process of transformation into a black jaguar. Another portrait showed Dracula himself in the form of a great black dragon breathing ghostly flames down upon a group of muggle hunters. Yet a third fresco showed thirteen figures, alike only in the greatness of their power, standing in the very antechamber he had occupied moment earlier, with a storm of blood surrounding them.

Another time Voldemort would have loved to spend time examining each of the frescos but he was too focused on the only exit at the other end of the hallway.

A great stone door stood at the other end. The only marking was a carving of an open book on the door and a message beneath in vampire runic script. A simple diagnostic spell told the dark lord that a powerful reflective charm was placed on the door. Any spell aimed at it would reflect back on the caster tenfold.

Voldemort decided against a Reducto curse

Instead he leaned close to the door and whispered a prayer to the elemental gods of fire. Spurts of smoke issued from his thin lips as the invocation actually heated the air he exhaled. Gradually the center of the door began to glow with white heat. Spreading like a match set to a paper the door began to melt, starting with the carving of the book.

Voldemort kept the chant up until there was a hole large enough to step through. One cooling charm later and he stepped into the inner sanctum of the Litany of Blood.

The room was ornate with a dedicated beauty that could only exist for those of great faith. Frescos of passages from the Litany of Blood decorated the walls in an ancient flowing script. Scenes of vampire blood magic were drawn in excruciating detail. Demonically visaged vampires danced in macabre scenes of gory decadence in every corner.

But Voldemort noticed none of those things.

The center piece of the room was a rune carved podium. A podium that should have the Litany in a place of prominence. But there was nothing there. The Litany of blood was gone.

The cries of the Dark Lord's rage echoed through the mountains for a very long time indeed.

* * *

_The thirteen necromancer kings raised a temple of marble from the bones of an ancient mountain. Vlad Dracula worked with the others for twelve days and twelve nights formulating the exact ritual they would use to elevate themselves to the level of gods._

_The ritual began at midnight during an astrological alignment called the Blood Moon. Draped in robes of the deepest burgundy they chanted spells and drank potions. They worked charms and transmutations of a level which would stagger ordinary wizards._

_Something went wrong. Even the vampires are unsure of what failed during the transformation of their founders. Priest from each of the clan's debate that doctrine of faith endlessly and blame the founders of every clan but their own for whatever mistake that was made._

_What is known is that they all emerged different than before. Inhuman. They possessed qualities no wizard or muggle had before. At first they thought their transformation worked perfectly. _

_Then the sun rose._

_Seared by the light of day the newly made vampires learned that forever more they would be denied the day lit world. Then they learned their magic had greatly changed and they did not possess the breath of power they once did. Over time they learned that they could have children with wizards and those children possessed identical powers although in turn their children would only breed true with others of their own kind. The founders also discovered that they could feed their blood to wizards and Muggles, transforming them into those like themselves. However when other vampires who were not among the founders tried to give their blood to wizards or muggles they transformed into mindless beasts of great physical power._

_The race of vampires had been born.

* * *

_

Lucius approached his master with trepidation. After the discovery that the Litany was not in its temple the Dark Lord had led his followers into a retreat back to the Tower of Nightmares where he made his base of operations.

Voldemort had been a towering rage. He had left his minions to meditate further upon the problem of the Litany. He retreated into his astral mediation chamber to think.

So it was with great hesitation Lucius Malfoy met with his master. He entered the nearly dark chamber and found his master on a raised dais in the small round room. The dark lord wore only a simple loin cloth, revealing an emaciated form that could have come straight from one of those camps of Grindelwald's. His red eyes were closed and his thin chest rose with even, steady breaths. The torches that gave the room what little light it had let off a heady scent and seemed to flicker in time with the Dark Lords breath.

Voldemort wore a smile.

"My lord?"

"I have been a fool, Lucius." He whispered in a serpentine tone and self reproachful tone. "I let my eagerness to taint my reason."

Lucius backed away. It was a rare thing for his master to admit any faults. Such admissions were usually accompanied by massive quantities of crucio's to relieve his frustrations.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "I am not going to harm you. Indeed, I am in a good mood."

"Why is that, Master?"

"I know where the Litany is. It was obvious once I thought about it. Where would the caretaker of vampire lore send the book once he realized that its location was compromised? Especially one with a half vampire daughter attending the safest Wizarding School in the entire world?"

"Hogwarts." Lucius answered in realization.

"Indeed. Hogwarts."

The white blond death eater leaned forward. "Master, Draco could…"

"No. I will not trust your son with such a delicate task."

"Then perhaps another student from Slytherin. One whose parents are loyal?"

"No. I will use a special weapon for this." Voldemort smiled. "Slytherin's are too obvious. No one in the school trusts them. I've kept something in reserve for just such an occasion." He broke from his lotus position and stretched, clearly satisfied with himself. "Do you know what the best move in chess is Lucius?"

"No, Lord."

Voldemort smiled sinisterly.

"It's the one no one sees coming."

* * *

_There are thirteen clans of vampires. Each descended from one of the great Necromancer Kings (and Queens!)_

_The first is Clan Dracula. Known for their command over reptiles, their founder was the greatest of the Necromancer Kings. He was known for ruthlessness and the ability to take the form of a Black Dragon of enormous size. One of the few wizards to have a unique being as an animagus form._

_The Second is Clan Nosferatu. Nos the defiler was known for the ability to spread disease with a wave of his staff. When he fought, winds of plague swept through the opposing ranks. After he was turned his body became twisted and wracked with disease. He hid himself in the warrens of the earth and took others—beggars, lepers, others of the downtrodden as his family. _

_The third is Clan Fury. Fury was a female necromancer who hated men with a passion as a result of her problems with her ex-master Dracula. When she was turned she only had female children. Uniquely, no matter who shares the blood of a Fury, they always had pure vampire children—all female. During the rise of the Greeks furies had the reputation of bringers of justice…and revenge._

_The fourth is Clan Astros. Lucien the Astrologer was a master of the science of the heavens as well husband to more than a hundred wives and concubines. It was he who decided on the time of the ritual. Dwellers in the Middle East, Astros are known for their twin interests in the heavens and the pleasures of the flesh, the same as their founder._

_The Fifth is Clan Black Mirror. Black Mirror was worshipped as a goddess by the red tribes in Mexico. She learned to tap into the power released by virgin blood sacrifices. Her children are among the most bloodthirsty and magically powerful of all vampires._

_The Sixth is Clan Nightshade. Born of the Dark Druid King Naros Nightshade, they were among the most spiritual of all vampires. They became the caretakers of the famed code of the vampires. Their innate abilities are among the greatest of all the families due to the understanding of their nature that came with their spiritual insight._

_The Seventh is Clan Deathtree. No one outside the clan knows the name of their founder. Deathtree came from the Far East. They are known for their calm demeanor and remain so even while ripping the throats out of their victims. Deadly martial artists and assassins, Deathtree's follow a proto-Taoist philosophy that tells them they exist as part of the cycle of life as natural predators meant to cull muggle herds._

_The eight is Clan Jade. A second Asian clan, Jade is the most hierarchical of the vampires with a very rigid system of merit and birth dictating position in the clan. The most long lived of the vampires, Jades are capable of living several thousand years. The current ruler of the Jade is the granddaughter of the clan's founder and remembers her grandmother. Something no other clan can claim. _

_The Ninth clan is Clan Vashtu. The smallest of the clans, they dwell in India and are masters of magic and illusion. They live a primarily monastic life devoted to exploring realms beyond the physical. Little is known of them._

_The tenth is Clan Hashismn. Hussar the Assassin was the only one of the Great Necromancers to hold no territory. He was a killer without peer and had been hired by all of the necromancer lords at one time or another. His gift at the arts of dealing death was legendary and his descendants still hold that reputation to the current day. It is said that Hashismn can kill so swiftly their victims can walk three feet before they realize they have been slain._

_The eleventh clan is Clan Yagos. Baba Yaga, the ogress of the frozen wasteland was the founder of this clan. The result of a witch raped by an ogre, Baba was a gifted witch, Necromancer, and seer. She was known for her fondness for the flesh of children and great physical strength. Her descendants still possess traces of ogre blood and they are masters of physical prowess, even among vampires. They almost totally lack most emotion based vampire abilities and have no skill at mental domination._

_The twelfth clan is Clan Inculos. Inculo was a necromancer whose blood possessed the taint of demons. When he transformed, his demonic bloodline altered the effects of transformation. Physically weaker than most vampires, Inculos are masters of the art of mental domination. They wield the scalpel of their powers with the skill of a surgeon. Few can withstand either the aura or their commands and they have the limited ability to feed directly from a person's magical aura instead of using the medium of blood. Most of them have a stable of people they can feed from and mark them magically so other vampires know not to feed from them._

_The last of the Clans is Clan Set. Oldest of the necromancer kings, Set remembered more than the fall of Atlantis. He remembered the height of its power. Set settled in the region of the world that became Egypt and deeply influenced the culture of that region with his obsession with death. Vampires of his clan worship their founder as the Pharaoh of Twilight. King and God over the entire world once Ra left the sky.

* * *

_

_Hogwarts Owlry_

_Five minutes after Harry and Blaise send the letter to her father_

Harry was acutely aware of the fact he was bleeding around a girl who liked to drink blood. Specifically liked to drink his blood. His lip was so swollen where he had bitten through it and his hand throbbed with such agony that he spared her little thought.

Blaise stood a few feet away, her letter writing implements occupying her arms. "You did a good thing tonight, Harry." Her voice was quiet and respectful; a tone Harry was unused to hearing from her. "Why?"

"Why?" Harry echoed in confusion. "Why what?"

Blaise let out a frustrated breath. "Why did you help my father? My people? He's trying to take control of your life. Why would you help him and not even ask him for anything?"

Harry shrugged. "Your people were going to die. It's not like we had a whole lot of time to negotiate. And I don't play games like that."

This time it was Blaise's turn to echo Harry. "My people? Potter, my people are vampires. Remember that?" She retorted in disbelief.

"What should I have done? Let them die? I don't do that!" Harry shouted. "I don't want anyone else to die around me because I didn't do anything."

"Anyone else?" Blaise asked.

Harry retreated back into himself. "Cedric. I didn't move fast enough. Didn't make a decision quick enough. I'm not going to make that mistake anymore."

"We're leeches sucking on the underbelly of society." She instructed in a bitter tone. "Vampires don't matter to wizards. We never have. Your friend Weasley would have let my father's vampires die. Granger might have saved us, but probably just so she can try to convince all of us to feed on fluffy bunnies or some other rot."

"Vampires matter to me." Harry answered matter of factly. "Everybody matters to me. I don't care about stuff like that. No one deserves to die. Well, no one except for Voldemort." He added thoughtfully a moment later.

Blaise stared hard at Harry and he returned the gaze blandly. Her eyes darted back and forth, searching his face for something. Although for what, Harry couldn't guess. After a few seconds her eyes changed nearly imperceptivity. She smiled softly and genuinely. Nothing about it was artifice or seduction. It was just a smile by a girl who had seen something that she hadn't expected.

"Don't ever change, Harry." She whispered. "Just…don't ever change."

* * *

Read and review people. Read and review


	14. The Strange tale of Biggs and Thorne

Harry Potter and the Litany of Blood

Ch 14

By Phoenixgod2000

Casting:

Hermione Granger…Emma Watson Lavender Brown…Piper Perabo

Blaise Zabini…Kiera Knightly Susan Bones…Jessica Simpson Terry Boot…Anthony Federov (wannabe Clay Aiken from current American Idol) Cho Chang…Zhang Ziyi Draco Malfoy…Tom Felton

Ron Weasley & Neville Longbottom…To be cast

Casting Changes:

Harry Potter…Orlando Bloom (Circa Pirates of Caribbean)

Fleur Delacour…Gisele Bundchen

Author's notes: Well, another chapter complete. I would like to thank my two new betas for their great insights and keen eyes. The story is certainly much better after I left it to them. This chapter is a mostly lighter chapter dealing with the interpersonal relationships of the students. The Ron/Susan talk was inspired by BTVS speech between Xander and Dawn in the seventh season episode potential. I am trying to represent the students of Hogwarts as real teenagers. Not the sanitized ones of the JK world and not the overly sexed ones of television and movies. I wanted it to be like my friends and I back in my high school days. Let me know if it worked.

Oh, and if anyone knows of a pair of cool young actors who could play Ron and Neville, speak up. I don't want to use the guys from the movies because I'm going for a slighter older than their character OC/90210 style of actor.

* * *

The first Hogsmeade weekend was a beautiful day. The sun cast its morning light onto the grounds of Hogwarts as dozens of students milled about, eagerly waiting to be dismissed for the day by Professor McGonagall.

The third years bounced excitedly, impatient to leave on their first official Hogsmeade weekend; permission slips gripped tightly in their hands.

The older students were more outwardly sedate, but the air was charged with excitement as the students waited on the appointed time to depart the castle.

All except for Ginny Weasley.

The young redhead sat by the window in her dorm room, watching the students with angry eyes. Her gaze finally settled on Harry Potter, standing with her brother and Hermione, along with their dates Susan Bones and Terry Boot, respectively. Waiting with the group was Neville Longbottom, alongside the beautiful Lavender Brown, his surprising girlfriend of three months. Ginny watched Harry smile and run his fingers through his hair while he laughed and joked with the others. She noticed that now that he didn't have to wear glasses, his eyes seemed even more brilliant than they had before. In short, he was looking better than ever. Harry had always been a handsome boy, she mused, but rather small and not at all well built. But this summer Harry had hit a growth spurt, packing on height and much-needed weight, while his face and body matured into someone who could easily pass for older than his fifteen years. Ginny knew that last bit for a fact, because she used one of the twin's extendable eyes to spy on him in the Quiddich locker room and watched him change several times.

_He seemed so relaxed_! Ginny thought to herself. And he did. He looked happy, as if for one day the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Why couldn't he be that way around her? Why couldn't he understand that they were meant to be together? He had come for _her_ in the chamber of secrets. He was a hero out of faerie tales. Why wouldn't he just play his part and fall in love with her?

She had gotten so close! Ginny knew that a few scant days earlier he had been on the verge of asking her to go to Hogsmeade with him… until that bloody scar of his had begun to act up and he fled from her presence. Later, she worried that he would realize something was wrong - either with her or the necklace; but apparently the vision he received from his scar distracted him from thinking too much about previous events. After working up her nerve to talk with him a second time about Hogsmeade, Ginny was dismayed to learn that as he was without a date, Harry had agreed to show Fleur around Hogsmeade. Apparently she hadn't gotten a chance to see it the previous year.

Fleur!

Ginny had smiled in understanding and left gracefully when she heard his answer, but inwardly she was seething. It had taken all she had not to ambush the flaxen-haired veela and push her down one of the many staircases of Hogwarts. Really, only the certain knowledge that she would get caught had stayed her hand.

Ginny shook her head. Fleur was certainly lying about having never been to Hogsmeade. She just wanted Harry for herself. All the girls did. She'd lost count of the times she had spent in a quiet rage while her dorm mates talked about his dreamy eyes or washboard pecs. Listening to them prattle on about his bravery was even worse. What did they know about his bravery! Had he killed a basilisk for them? She didn't think so. They didn't understand him. Not like she did. She could make him happy. She would make him happy. Happier than any other girl and especially happier than that Veela could ever make him.

Ginny glanced at her small trunk. She could practically feel the dark book of Love Magic's lurking within. She had been forced to plead illness with her friends so she'd have the time to study it. Her necklace wasn't working fast enough, not nearly fast enough.

So she was just going to have to come up with something stronger.

* * *

"How 'ees your face?" Fleur asked. A porcelain finger traced his lip where it had been bit and bleeding only a few days earlier.

She had gotten quite a shock when Harry, accompanied by a young Slytherin girl, had appeared at her door late in the evening a few prior. Harry had looked like hell as he leaned exhaustedly on the raven-haired girl. Blood dripped from the corner of his swollen mouth and his right hand was a bruised, mangled mess.

The pretty young Slytherin, Blaise, explained about Voldemort's visitation and how Harry had used pain to drive him off. Fleur recalled that Blaise hadn't mentioned how it was that she had come to walk Harry to her doorstep, or if Harry had the vision alone. Fleur didn't have a chance to ask, as Blaise left quite soon after bringing Harry to the infirmary. The veela healer remembered the cold blue stare of the Slytherin and how that stare softened ever so imperceptibly when she looked at Harry. Something about her caused Fleur's womanly hackles to rise, watching Blaise's gaze linger slightly too long over Harry; even her cold Slytherin mask couldn't disguise genuine worry.

"I'm glad you're a healer." Harry answered ruefully. "That cream you had cleared up the bruises overnight. Good thing too, because I think trying to mask bruises might be a little hard for a novice metamorphmagus like me."

"I was 'appy to help." Fleur smiled at Harry. She had been surprised when Harry revealed to her that he was a metamorphmagi—although as of yet he had not been trained. The body shifting talent was incredibly rare, especially in non-purebloods; only a handful of wizards or witches with any level of the talent existed on the entire mainland of Europe. In Fleur's mind, it was yet another piece of evidence that Harry was just as special a wizard as he was a person.

The pair walked side by side down the main street of Hogsmeade, not holding hands like the other couples walking down the street, since they still had to play at being just friends. Still, Fleur was amused by the sheer number of women shooting her hateful looks. Being an attractive woman, she was quite used to hatred from other females, but several of the students were looking positively venomous, and she knew it was because she was with Harry and they were not. Fleur had instinctively known that Harry had no experience with girls before her, but the physical changes over the summer (combined with a subconscious boost from his metamorphmagus abilities) along with his wealth and fame, had shot his desirability through the roof. Fleur recognized it even while Harry remained adorably oblivious. Still, she cared deeply for Harry and was certainly confident enough to pit herself against any girl at Hogwart's who might want to vie for his affections.

"Zat 'ees ze candystore, _oui_?"

"Yeah, Honeydukes." Harry arched his eyebrow. "Wanna check it out?"

"B_ien sûr._"

* * *

"Do you really like the chudley Cannons?"

Ron looked up from where he was examining the selkie skin keeper gauntlets. "You don't like the Cannons, Susan?"

Susan Bones smiled at him. She held up a jersey with the Holyhead Harpy insignia emblazoned on the back and measured it against her body. "They're alright, I guess. But they aren't the Harpies. Gloria Whiteshadow is the greatest!" She gushed.

"Whiteshadow?" Ron whined. "She's a terrible keeper. Did you see how she missed that goal against the Archers? Even I could've caught that one."

Susan slapped him in the shoulder. "I was at that game. The quaffle would've spun past you while you were blinking." With a laugh she ran out of the store.

Ron chased his girlfriend and caught up with her easily, thanks to his long strides. He grabbed the slight girl and spun her around as Susan shrieked in mock terror—but clung to him with a deathgrip.

"No badmouthing the Cannons allowed." Ron playfully ordered. Spinning her around again, the tall redhead returned the smaller blonde girl to her feet. "Just for that, you have to get me tickets to this summers Cannon exhibition match."

Susan flipped her long braid over her shoulder. "No making fun of the Cannons, hmmm. So if I said that Brad Thorpe was fat slowpoke four decades past his prime what exactly would you do?"

Ron grinned. "More of this." He snatched her back up and kissed her mouth. After a moment he pulled away, flushed, grinning at an equally flushed Susan Bones. "So, have you learned your lesson?"

"Oh yes, wonderful Cannon supporting boyfriend of mine. You have surely taught me a lesson." Susan's blue eyes danced as she spoke in mocking sugary voice. "Do you really want tickets to the Cannons summer program?" Susan asked, becoming more serious. "My aunt can get you the tickets easily. She knows some people in the department of games."

Ron stiffened. "You could do that? You would do that for me?"

Susan shrugged. "Sure. You're my boyfriend. It's done if you really want them."

Desire and pride warred within Ron. His pride told him that he couldn't take a handout from somebody. Especially a girl he was dating. No Weasley ever took something they didn't earn. After all, they weren't one of those Slytherin families who acted with what passed for Slytherin honor, manipulating everybody around them. The Weasley's took only what was theirs and nothing more. They worked hard and gave back to society rather than living off its fat. That was Weasley honor.

On the other hand, it was the Cannons.

Ron broke into a smile. "Susan, you are the greatest girlfriend ever."

The blond plaited girl laughed and deposited a quick peck on the tip of his nose. "Tell me something I don't know."

* * *

"This is quality Gillyweed extract."

Hermione looked at the phial Terry Boot was holding. The clear liquid was unclouded, and the lack of fibers or other detritus on the bottom testified to thorough processing. (Too much extraneous material would reduce the efficacy of any potions made with it). He was right; it was very high quality extract.

Terry and Hermione were in Drakov's Potente Potion Supplies. Terry said that he needed some more supplies for class, and Hermione agreed to accompany him because she had never been in the shop before; Harry and Ron had always been far more interested in sweets and Quiddich than the more scholastically oriented shops.

The store itself turned out to be a fascinating place. Row after row of dusty shelving sagged beneath the heavy weight of bottles, jars, and boxes of alchemical ingredients. Hundreds of books on the subject, in a variety of languages, decorated one entire corridor. The shop was also quite dimly lit, owing to the photosensitive nature many of the ingredients. Overall, the ambiance of the establishment was remarkably sinister, seemingly more suited to the narrow lanes of Knockturn Alley than the bright streets of Hogsmeade.

"Do you think that Red Poppy extract is a good buy?" Hermione asked, holding up a flask of clear red liquid.

Terry pursed his lips. "I've heard that Professor Snape likes to teach the _Volumus_ Potion fifth year and that takes quite a bit of Red Poppy." He leaned over to examine the liquid. "Appears to be well strained and clean. I say get it."

Hermione nodded and fished out the coins to pay for her purchase, sneaking a sideways glance at her date. Terry was a nice guy, she mused, and quite attractive as well. He had slender, almost feminine features, and a pair of large blues eyes which were currently perched behind round glasses, topped off by a thick head of straw blond hair. All in all, Hermione admitted, he was quite fit. But he was just so boring! He was nearly as centered on school as she was, and while he was interesting to talk with, so far the date had been like talking with a lab partner. All he wanted to do was talk about Potions and Ancient Runes. This was fine, to a point, since he actually had some interesting ideas and was far better versed on the literature of the subjects than either Ron or Harry, but Hermione wanted more than that. Merlin save her, she might even welcome a discussion of Quiddich at this point! No one could dispute that she liked school, but sometimes even Hermione Granger needed to forget about classes and OWLs and just be a girl on a date. Was that really too much to ask?

She sighed. Obviously, it was going to be up to her to salvage this date.

"Terry, we are going to get a butterbeer. Now!"

* * *

Blaise Zabini wandered down the hallway, a little lost and more than a little bored. Hogwarts was always empty on Hogsmeade weekends, since every student allowed to leave the castle left for the small town. The ancient castle seemed much larger with only the youngest students left behind.

Blaise had decided not to go on the school trip because the brilliant autumn day was far too bright for the half vampire to endure. While she might not burst into flames, her ancestry insured that her fair skin was especially sensitive to naked sunlight and she had no intention of dealing with sunburns. At least, that was the reason she told herself and the few Slytherins who cared enough to ask.

The real reason was that Blaise didn't want to see Harry with her.

She wasn't supposed to feel like this! It should be enough that she liked the boy. That was all that was required. A lot of Wizard marriages had lasted with a weaker base than genuine like, and dare she even think it, respect. She was supposed to just marry him so she could get out of some marriage to a vampire with bad breath that was four hundred years older than her.

She wasn't supposed to be falling in love with Great-Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived!

That stupid nobility of his! Why did he have to be so damn decent? Why did he have to be so damn unprejudiced? More importantly, why did she even like his decentness and stupid nobility? She was a strong, independent, Slytherin woman. Nobility was something that got stupid people killed. Why then did Harry's nobility make her heart skip a beat? Why did she actually feel better when she was around him? Why did he make her think that a marriage of convenience could be so much more than simple convenience?

Why couldn't he be a prick like Malfoy or one of the ubiquitous Weasley's? She knew that she could coldly open her legs to them and do her wifely duty in the bedroom, and live her own life outside of it. But she couldn't do that with Harry… didn't want to do that with Harry.

For Lilith's sake, she actually caught herself imagining what their children would look like! He was turning her into a bloody moon-eyed Hufflepuff! She was Blaise Zabini, descendant of kings. She simply didn't go calf-eyed over boys in the middle of the night, damn it.

Except that she had.

Without even trying, Harry had pierced the shell around her heart and broken past the mask she carefully nurtured for the outside world. The thought of him with that blonde tart made her want to rip out her throat and drink her sweet, coconut flavored (according to her father) veela blood.

In an explosion of movement that sent a few first years scurrying, Blaise slammed her fist into the closest wall. A spider web of cracks formed around the point of impact, and Blaise retracted her fist, which was already beginning to sting with healing energy.

Feeling better, at least momentarily, Blaise continued down the halls of Hogwarts, profoundly lost.

* * *

"I'm sorry 'Arry." Fleur began softly.

"What?" Harry responded in a confused tone.

He and Fleur wandered in companionable silence down the main street of Hogsmeade, eating chilled ice cream from a local parlor and taking in the sights.

Fleur took a nibble of her airy confection (pineapple and butterscotch) before answering. "I am sorry." She repeated again. "I was short with you zee oz'er day and I was rude as well." She tugged on her silver braid with her hand nervously.

Harry stopped in the street. "I'm the one who should apologize. You're going to school too, and I was bugging you."

Fleur nodded. "Zer iz zat. Healing iz more… deefeecult zen I believed it would be. School has always been zo easy for me… but zis is very different. Much 'arder. But zat is not the only reason." The pretty blond veela was quiet for a moment. "I got a letter from my sister zee other day. One of her girlfriends 'as left her over jealousy and she was deevestated." Fleur's accent thickened as she got more emotional. "She eez beginning veela puberty and her charms eez starting to flare up. Zee boys are starting to notice her. I am scared for her." She ended softly.

"Why?"

"It can be deefeecult for a young veela. It was very 'ard for me. Girls can be cruel when zee zink you are prettier or want zere boyfriend or husband. I 'ad many problems when I was Gabrielle's age. Zere were girls who were cruel to me. More zan zat, boys become dangerous. Flares of her charm can cause zem to act_ fou. _Crazy. It iz not zere fault, but it is not my sisters fault eizer. Zey can even become violent."

Fleur shuddered and looked away from Harry. He put comforting had on her shoulder. Fleur smiled at him and continued to speak. "My time at Beaxbatons was not always joyful. I wanted more for her. I wanted zings to be easier for her." Fleur shrugged, "but I suppose we must take zee good with zee bad. And zer are many good zings about being a veela."

Harry nodded silently. He could feel the concern for Gabrielle in Fleur's voice. And he supposed that it probably was hard for a veela or a girl with Veela blood to do simple things like date. Or bond with other girls. Jealously was more than a small problem for Fleur and her sister, it could be an actual physical danger.

"Harry, is zat why you like me? Because I am pretty?" Fleur asked seriously.

Harry stopped in shock. "Is that what you think?" he whispered in horror. "That I just like you because of your looks? Come with me." He ordered.

Harry dragged Fleur down a different street, one that was less trafficked by students. Backtracking, he took her to the side of a decrepit old house. Pulling up one of the rear windows, Harry crawled inside. Turning, he beckoned Fleur to follow him. Taking one look at the grime covered windowsill, Fleur disappeared with a pop and reappeared next to Harry.

"Why did you drag me 'ere?" Fleur asked distastefully, as she took in the filthy room.

"This is the Shrieking Shack," Harry began distractedly. "Everyone thinks it's haunted, but its not. A werewolf used to stay here during the full moon. I wanted a place where we could talk seriously without too many eyes watching."

"I am listeening."

"Look, Fleur. I would be lying if I said that I don't like the way you look. Because I do, very much. You are so breathtakingly beautiful that sometimes I can't believe that you even like me. It's too much like a dream, and I think that I'm going to wake up one day and you'll be gone."

Harry reached out, took her hand, and stared deeply into her eyes. "But that's just extra. I don't like you because of your beauty. I like you because you're smart and well traveled. I like the fact that you could easily be a trophy wife to a rich man and live out your life in luxury, but you don't. Instead, you're trying to become a healer. You aren't afraid to get potion ingredients on you or push up your sleeves and do something gross. I like your little quirks, like the way you fold your hands when you sit and the disgusting way you eat pastries. I like that you're an absolute snob when it comes to the superiority of French food."

Fleur reached out and covered Harry's hands with her own. "I believe you, 'arry." She whispered softly. "You don't have to"

"Let me finish Fleur, if I don't, I may never finish." Harry interrupted. "I love that you gave a voice to my mother. I love that you took a chance on me, on us, even though I didn't have any experience with a girlfriend. You've changed me, brought out something in me I didn't even know I had. Last year I couldn't even talk with a girl that I liked. Every time I got near her I would freeze up, second guess myself. With you it's different. You make me feel comfortable. You make me feel good about me. I've gotten very little love in my life and the fact that you honor me with yours makes me feel good every single day. If you hadn't helped me open up, I could never have told all this to you, because I wouldn't have known how. So I guess what I'm saying, in a whole lot of words, is I love you for a lot of reasons and not a single one of them is because you are pretty."

Fleur watched as the torrent of words left Harry. But the only words she heard were _I love you._

"You love me?" she whispered in an awed tone, her voice thick.

Harry stopped and realized what she had just said. And then realized what he had just said. His eyes widened in shock. "Yeah," he answered slowly, "I think I do. No, I know I do."

No sooner than he finished speaking than Fleur descended upon him. No more words were exchanged for quite a while.

* * *

"What's it like to be roommates with Harry Potter?"

Ron's head snapped upwards. "Huhh…what do you mean?"

Susan shrugged her shoulders. The pair was leaving Honeydukes when she had sprung the question on him. "I just mean, what's he really like? I've read the Prophet, had Herbology with him and all, but it's different with you. I mean, you really know. You've been on adventures with him, lived with him, all of it. Harry Potter. The Harry Potter. My Auntie has been telling me the story of Harry Potter since I was a baby. Everyone's parents tell their kids the story of the Boy Who Lived. And you really know him, it must be wild."

_You don't know the half of it!_ Ron thought. Susan didn't know anything about the crazy things that had happened to the three of them. And he couldn't even really tell her, because they weren't his secrets to tell. Part of him longed to tell her about how he helped to confront the crazed killer Sirius Black or helped Harry to save the Sorcerers Stone from Voldemort. He wanted to see the look of admiration on her face when he told her the story of the giant chessboard or the Chamber of Salazar Slytherin. They were certainly things that his brothers never did, but they weren't his deeds either. He was just the sidekick. Ron could understand where she was coming from, though. If he didn't know Harry he would have wanted to hear about him from someone who did. He hesitated for a second while he thought of what to say, then began to speak.

"It was weird at first, you know, to realize you were the best friend of Harry Potter." Ron said slowly. "I heard all the same stories, my brothers and my sister too. Then when I met him I thought he was going to be…I don't know. Different. My sister couldn't even be around him without turning purple." Ron smiled slightly. "He's an amazing guy. Special. But normal too. He likes girls and sports, hates to study. Just like everyone else. He's so normal that it's easy to forget sometimes how amazing he is. The things he can do. And sometimes, I get jealous. I do. It's easy to just see all the great perks he has. The Quiddich talent, the magical ability, the money, and totally forget the little things." Ron snorted. "You know. The little things like his dead parents. Or the evil wizard who's life's mission seems to be Harry's personal destruction. But still, it can be hard to be the forgotten one. The one who isn't seen." Ron sounded peaceful, not bitter, like one might expect.

"I see." Susan threaded her fingers into Ron's and smiled at him. "And I like what I see."

* * *

Hermione was frustrated.

No. She was more than that. She was angry.

Terry was the worst date ever. The boy was just so…so…BORING! All he did over their butterbeers was prattle on about his potion ingredients or the latest Triple-enchantment proof from Arithmancy. Hermione liked those things, and even talked with him about those things earlier in the date, but she had hoped he would stop talking about them eventually. ESPECIALLY after she ceased responding to his ramblings.

A not insignificant part of her wished she was with Ron instead. She would have gladly put up with the incessant Quidditch or dragon talk because it was at least something different than what she talked about every day.

But nooo… Ron had to go with that blond haired, perfect in every way, Nazi poster girl Susan Bones. Hermione couldn't help but feel a little inadequate when she compared her slightly boyish body and thick, bushy mane of hair to the model slender, big perfect breasted, and silken haired Susan.

She glanced at Terry, still talking about something. What, she couldn't say, since she had tuned out a while back. She resolved to tell him that while the date was nice, she didn't think they would work out long term.

Of course she wasn't going to add the part where the reason they wouldn't work out was because she thought he had the personality of a cardboard box.

"Look," a nasally voice called out from behind them, "Mudbloods about to breed. There ought to be a law."

Hermione dropped the hand she was holding and spun around. Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and the oarfish pair of Crabbe and Goyle stood behind her and Terry. Her date slowly followed suit, blinking in slight confusion.

"What do you want?" Terry asked hesitantly.

"Hmmm, what do I want?" Draco asked mockingly. "Maybe I want to show the little mudblood how a pureblood does things." He ran his pink tongue over his lips seductively. "What do you think Pansy," he asked his pugish girlfriend. "Should I show Granger what I can do?"

The unattractive Slytherin girl tittered. "Would she survive such a _large _showing, Dracy?"

"I doubt large is the word I would use." Hermione retorted.

"Mudblood!" Draco whipped out his wand. Hermione had hers out a moment later.

Terry stepped forward and held out his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Draco, this is stupid. You could lose your Perfect badge over this." He began reasonably.

Draco made a swift motion and Crabbe grabbed the slender Ravenclaw male. The thin Slytherin laughed. "Maybe I don't care about my badge, Boot. Maybe I just want to sample some bush…y hair." He smirked at Hermione. "Who knows, I could even have a revelation about their place in the world." He started forward. "Their place, of course, underneath us," he leered.

Hermione raised her wand. "Don't even think about it. I know some painful curses." Her voice was steady, but her hand quivered, an indication of just how scared she really was. Hermione thought that she could take Malfoy fairly easily one-on-one, but she was outnumbered and her date had been neutralized.

"She really does, Malfoy. Trust me; her books have all sorts of nasty spells." A deep voice echoed from behind her.

Ron. Hermione spared a quick glance behind her and saw one of her two best friends sauntering up behind her. He didn't even have his wand out, but his large hands were coiled into fists. It suddenly struck her just how big and how much muscle her friend had now. He towered over everyone else present, except for Goyle. She barely registered the two other people behind him with their wands drawn.

"Weasley, Longbottom, and Brown." Draco spat. "How fortuitous, a gaggle of purebloods coming to a mudblood's rescue. However have your families stayed pure?"

Ron laughed. "Simple. We just never married into the Malfoy's." Hermione choked off a snort that was equal parts amusement and relief.

The ferret faced Slytherin purpled. "There are still more of us than you, Weasley. I would shut up if I were you."

"You shut up!" Lavender shouted. Her hands were remarkably steady. "Harry's been teaching me and Neville how to duel. We can beat you."

"Who do you have?" Hermione added. "Crabbe and Goyle?" she added derisively.

"I don't need them." Draco spat. He straightened himself up to his full, quite unimpressive height.

"Susan's looking for a teacher." Ron added. "One should be along soon. Wanna make a bet about how soon? And what do you think'll happen if they catch you dueling…Prefect." Ron folded his arms confidently and smirked at the Slytherin.

"You're smarter than you used to be, Weasley. See you around." Draco muttered in a dark tone while the rest of his gang melted back into the more common areas of Hogsmead. He swiftly joined them.

Hermione faced her savior. "Thanks Ron. You too Neville. Lavender." She acknowledged each one gratefully. "I don't know what I would have done without you three." Terry Boot blushed.

Ron shrugged away the compliment. "Probably used a spell none of them could pronounce or even heard of to rot off Malfoy's unmentionables." He smiled down at his best female friend. "I don't suppose you actually know a spell like that," he added hopefully. "Because if you do, then I swear I'll give back any points you lose casting it on Malfoy."

The bushy haired girl giggled. "Sorry I don't." Looking around, Hermione asked, "So where is Susan? Did you really send her after a teacher?"

Ron snorted. "Of course I did! Miss up a chance to get Malfoy in trouble? I don't think so."

Hermione glanced at Neville and Lavender. "Has Harry really been giving you two lessons? Because I've never seen him"

Lavender interrupted Hermione with a giggle. "No. He's going to, but he hasn't started yet. Probably in a few days. Draco didn't know that, though." She glanced lovingly at Neville. "Nev was the one to see Draco following you and he went and got Ron." She grabbed the chubby boy's hand. "See you later, Hermione." Lavender left quickly, dragging a barely struggling Neville with her. Leaving Hermione alone with her date.

And Ron.

Hermione shifted her weight and avoided her friends gaze. "So, Uhhh…how was your date with Susan?"

This time Ron was the one unable to meet his Hermione's brown eyed stare. "Good. I like her, 'Mione. I like her a lot. How was Terry?" he returned hesitantly.

"Fine. He was a good date." Hermione glanced quickly at Terry, who still seemed shocked that someone would actually attack him while on a date. "That's…good, Ron. I'm glad you like her."

The pair stood in awkward silence for a long time.

* * *

The sun was setting and dark red light filled the sky as Harry and Fleur finally left Hogsmeade. Fleur was on top of the world. She had been nervous about the date, because of their slight fight and the distance that had grown between them of late. But they were better than ever. Harry had told her that he loved her and the young veela could not be happier, so when a soft voice called out, "Harry", Fleur was caught off guard. She and Harry both turned to find Cho Chang and a pair of her friends.

The slight Chinese girl stood between Anthony Goldstein and Marietta Edgecombe, her two best friends in Ravenclaw. Her face was thin and hollow, and she seemed to have physically shrunk with her grief.

"Harry." She whispered. Her voice was thick with—something Fleur couldn't really place.

"Cho."

Fleur felt out of place. Something crackled between Harry and Cho that she couldn't touch. Her veela senses could feel the emotion coming off both of them. And they weren't good emotions.

"You've been looking for me, Harry." Cho said, in the same soft voice. "Why?"

Harry sucked in breath. "I wanted to tell you that I was sorry… for Cedric. He… He was a really great guy. And if you ever need anything you can ask me." Harry winced at how trite he sounded, but it was what he had been waiting to say.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah," Harry answered nervously, "That's all."

"Why would I ever want anything from you?" Cho said flatly. She stepped closer towards Harry. "Your apology and your offer to help just doesn't matter."

Harry flinched as if struck. "Cho… I don't know what else to say," he whispered.

"There is nothing to say, Potter. It's your fault he's dead." Cho hissed. "He would never… never… have been killed, except he was with you. You're dangerous. Everyone around you is in danger."

"Shut up, Cho." Fleur hissed. "You don't know what you're talking about." The veela grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged the unresisting teenage boy away.

"You'll see," Cho called out. "He's a menace to everyone around him. Just you see."

* * *

"Check."

Ron smirked at his friend. The pair was alone in the Gryffindor common room playing chess. It was late at night, but neither Ron nor Harry could find sleep so they decided to play a few games to kill time. The room was silent and dark save for the crackle of the fireplace.

Harry sighed and ordered his king to move. "You are entirely too good at this game," he mumbled distractedly.

Ron frowned at the board. "So," he asked while staring at the game pieces, "How are you doing. I heard what happened between you and Cho. Lavender told me that she overheard everything. She says to tell you that if you want, she and Parvati will destroy her reputation around the school."

Harry smiled bitterly. "Don't you think I've done enough to her?"

"You didn't do anything to her, Harry. Nothing that happened to Cedric was your fault." Ron told Harry in a serious tone. He ordered his knight to follow the king, once again placing Harry in check.

Harry frowned at the board. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," he muttered. Changing the subject, Harry asked, "So I heard you had to rescue Hermione?"

Ron snorted. "Bloody Dumbledore didn't even give Malfoy a detention. After what he said to 'Mione? I should have beaten him to within an inch of his little ferrety life." The red haired Gryffindor shook his head. "And Terry was useless. Hermione told me that he tried to reason with Malfoy. Reason with that little…Slytherin." Ron spat in disgust.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. Something seems kinda off. Draco's a coward, a little ferret. Threatening Hermione? I didn't think he'd ever have the stones."

"You can't put anything past a bloody Malfoy." Ron argued.

"Maybe." Harry smiled. "But what I really want to know is how Hermione thanked you." Harry smiled at his best male friend and batted his eyes at him in mock seduction. "Did she give you a kiss?" He asked with a smile.

"Shut up." A deep scarlet blush flooded Ron's cheeks. "We aren't like that."

"But you wouldn't mind?"

"It wouldn't be terrible." Ron agreed. "But I don't know. Before I met Susan, I would've killed to be noticed like that by Hermione. She's smart, pretty, and I like arguing with her. It's fun" He added. "But I really like Susan. She doesn't nag and she sees me." Ron stared at Harry. "You know what I mean? She's special and I like her. Besides, if I date Hermione, it'll be like Biggs and Thorne."

"Who and who?"

Ron smiled. "You haven't read The Cannons, A History yet, have you?"

"Well, I have been sort of busy with being driven by crazy by the energy I sucked away from the Dark Lord who killed my parents." Harry answered dryly. For once, it felt good to drive away his fears and specters with a joke, instead of dwelling on them. And there was no one better to do that with than Ron Weasley.

"Excuses, excuses." Ron joked. "Biggs and Throne were on the Cannons in the eighteen fifties. Amanda Biggs was a Beater and Andrew Thorne was the Seeker. They worked well together. Really well. Led the team to the European Championships. But that wasn't all. They were dating pretty seriously." Ron smiled. "They were magic, mate. Only undefeated season in Cannon history. They knew how to protect each other, back each other up. Biggs kept Thorne alive in every game long enough to grab the snitch. So they make it to the championship and what happens? Amanda Biggs catches Andrew in the locker room with a veela cheerleader. He'd been sleeping with her for months. Amanda was in a rage so when they get out onto the field and she spends half the game aiming the bludger at him instead of guarding him. He ends up brained instead of Quiddich Champ."

Harry made confused noises. "I don't understand."

"Me and Hermione. We're Biggs and Thorne. You need us, Harry, to be your friend more than we need to go out. What happens if we break up? What happens if we get so caught up with each other and you need us? I like her but I'm not sure if we would all stay friends if we went out."

"You didn't come up with this on your own." Harry accused. "Who'd you talk to? Bill?"

Ron laughed. "Percy actually. Bloke isn't so bad, now that Tonks has pulled the wand out of his ass." The redhead directed a bishop to steal a pawn. "Checkmate." After winning he stretched and let out a yawn. "I think beating you did its job mate, because I am dead sleepy."

Harry nodded and silently watched as Ron got up and started to head up to the dormitories. He still wasn't tired, the cursed downside of a necromancer's unnatural vitality and strength.

"Ron."

"Yeah, mate?"

"Don't use me as an excuse to date Hermione. If you like her, take her out."

Ron paused at the bottom of the staircase. "I'm not… really," he added at the glimpse of Harry's skeptical face. "I like Susan a lot, so I'm going to stay with her for a while, but who knows," Ron shrugged, "What'll happen later. I'm only fifteen. I have dozens of girls to date before I settle down." He added with a smile.

Harry snorted. "Don't let your mum hear you say that."

Ron shuddered and started up the stairs. Harry watched him silently before shifting his gaze to the still blazing fireplace. Ron had changed, he realized. For the first time, Harry really got that. Over the summer the youngest male Weasley had found himself, and through that, a measure of peace. Harry was happy for him.

He was also more than a little envious.

Harry didn't have any peace. The black power, coiled like a poisonous snake in the center of his magic, had robbed him of whatever peace he had. It was a constant struggle to fight the power's intoxicating influence. Influence he didn't even possess any real control over. When he confronted Cho, a bit of his legimency triggered and he had felt the emotion behind her words. It wasn't anger or hatred. It was pain, a pain on a level more profound than Harry could comprehend. It was crippling her, and she was lashing out at him because all she wanted to do was make other people hurt as much as she did. It was ugly, vindictive, and mean, but Harry couldn't find it in his heart to be angry at her. Because he would have done the same thing had someone he loved so much been murdered.

Instead he was scared for her. For an instant, just an instant, he could feel how to shatter her mind with his powers. He could sense the spot where her grief emanated and he realized it would be so simple to just reach out and stimulate that spot. Trap her in an eternal loop of grief and memories. It would be so easy. Laughably easy. But then Fleur had dragged him away. Her touch was like light. It drove away the shadows and burned away his unwholesome desires. She saved him. Because she loved him

Harry stared into the flicking fireplace and prayed that it would be enough.

* * *

I've been meaning to do this for a while. A FAQ answer list. I get a lot of the same questions, and I wanted to take the time to answer them. Because you guys deserve a few answers for being such awesome reviewers (hint, hint)

**What's the deal with Ron? He's less of a giant ass than in most fics. **That's a very good question. I write Ron that way because I like the character. I find it easy to empathize with the regular Joe of the HP story. I created his summer abroad and love for Dragons as a shorthand way to mature him up a littleI'm also focusing a little more on his relationship and advice from his older brothers, particularly Bill, Charlie, and Percy, something I don't think JK does well. There is now way Ron would be as socially inept as he is portrayed in the books with that many older brothers. Especially one as cool as Bill or Charlie.

**Why don't you write a threesome fic? Have Harry hook up with both Honies. **I want this story to be about Harry's choices. And if Harry doesn't have to make any meaningful choices then the only conflict is external. I want him to agonize over his choice of woman and make both of them appealing in the same way. The inspiration for both of Harry's women is really idealized versions of what I like in women. Fleur is the good girl. The sweet one. The one you can take home to mom and show off with at church. Wholesome. Blaise is my idealization of the bad girl. The girl you meet sitting in a bar with a deep, raspy, sexy voice. The type of girl who seems like she doesn't have a care in the world and wants nothing more than a roll in the hay, but really has a heart and soul much better than you'd think at first. The type of girl who is all passion and sucks you into their world. Both have their strengths and weaknesses. Fleur, for all of her beauty and goodness, is ultimately slightly boring. Blaise on the other hand, is never boring, but by the same token isn't likely to want to settle down, something that almost all people want to do. No one can party forever.

**What will the characters Animagus form be? **I can't say. Harry and Ron will have magical beast forms and Hermione will have a standard animal form. I know what they will all be so please don't inundate me with options. Harry's form in particular is going to be a creature I'm going to make up.

**Can the ritual Voldemort used to destroy the wards around the vampire temple bring down the wards of Hogwarts. **In theory yes, although the vampire temple did not have anyone as versed in the arts of magic as Albus Dumbledore. He insures that Voldemort will have a much more difficult with Hogwarts. Plus finding thirteen pureblooded virgins who are willing to sacrifice themselves is a bitch to do.

**First years don't have Care of Magical Creatures. So how can Ron teach them about Dragons? **That's…err…A good point. So here is the deal. Dumbledore has instituted a new policy to ease the younger years into the higher disciplines. So first and second years get half periods of elective classes to give them a taste of everything. That's my story and I'm going to stick to it.

**Do you hate the character of Ginny? Is that why you made her evil? **Yes.

**Why Percy/Tonks? **Because I find their pairing amusing. And I think Percy is going be revealed as a deep cover spy in the next book.

**Will Slash or redeemed Draco become part of this story or any outgrowths therein? **The short answer is probably not. But the longer answer is maybe. I'm toying with a few ideas that involve femslash or regular slash. There are gay people in the Wizarding world and a few might pop up now and then in order to give the world a little more depth and dimension. To try and show that it is a real, grown up place. Regardless, even if I include a little, it won't ever be a major part of the story. Redeemed Draco will only happen if it makes sense and his younger sister can somehow reach a part of him that he thinks is gone. Even if he is slightly redeemed there are vast differences between Death Eater and good guy. Dark Grey and still racist is definitely a possibility. It all just depends on how the story goes.

Thanks for reading this far. I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter of Litany of Blood. Please read and leave a review. Your messages keep me going when I don't feel like writing. As always tell me what you think, what you'd like to see, and where you think the story is going. I value all of your insights.


	15. Falling into shadows

Litany of Blood

Ch 15

By phoenixgod2000

Casting:

Narcissa Malfoy…Portia De Rossi Draco Malfoy…Tom Felton Lucius Malfoy…Jason Isaacs

Psyche Malfoy…Dakota Fanning Harry Potter…Orlando Bloom Blaise Zabini…Kiera Knightly

Fleur Delacour…Giselle Buncheon Luna Lovegood…Azura Skye Hermione Granger…Emma Watson

Ron Weasley…To be cast Albus Dumbledore…Richard Harris (dead or not he is DD to me)

* * *

Ron Weasley was terrified.

Well… not as scared as when he was stuck in the forest full of Acromantula's, but scared nonetheless.

Today was the day he was giving the promised lesson on Dragons to Hagrid's first year classes. Ron stood nervously at the front of the first year Slytherin and Ravenclaw classes, heart pounding and palms slick with sweat. They were arranged in neat rows, their beady little eyes assessing and judging him before he ever started talking. He was starting to have second thoughts about helping Hagrid out with the experimental class of first years. Dumbledore's institution of half periods of all electives was a good idea according to Hermione—but she wasn't the one being faced with their dark eyes. Near the back, Hagrid beamed at Ron, gloriously oblivious to the terror his young friend was feeling; the terror that drained the blood from his face, leaving his freckles gleaming like drops of blood against his skin. Seeing his signal from Hagrid, Ron cleared his throat and began his lesson.

"I…uhhh…what does everybody know about dragons?" Ron winced as he saw that none of the students had raised their hands. He was only thirty seconds into the lesson and he was already a failure. Then Psyche Malfoy raised her hand.

"Dragons are lizards." She said confidently. The tiny silver haired first year shot Ron a shy smile and he beamed one back. Then another first year offered: "They all have wings."

"They breathe fire." A third.

A fourth: "They have thick scales that repel magic."

"They're cold blooded." A fifth piped up.

Ron stopped the flood of observations short with an upraised hand. "No they aren't." he disagreed. "Dragons are warm blooded. They generate their own body heat."

"Really?" The tiny first year looked interested.

"Yeah." Ron started warming to his subject. He could do this. "My brother Charlie, he works at a Dragon Preserve, anyway, he taught me this spell over the summer." He winked at the kids and grinned. "You're not supposed to do magic during the summer but I was in Romania so the tracking charms couldn't find me." He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and muttered, "_Imago Draconis_."

Wisps of magic swirled away from the tip of his wand and gathered in front of the first years. Weaving and dancing, the strands finally coalesced into the shape ofa translucent Norwegian Ridgeback about Ron's size. The redhead opened his eyes and let out a few steadying breaths. Charlie had told him that the spell was harder to cast than it seemed, and he hadn't been lying. Even as he turned back to the kids he could feel the steady pressure of the spell leeching off his core. Ron gestured with his wand at the base of the dragon's throat. "This is where the dragon's Vox, or fire organ, is located…"

* * *

Psyche Malfoy tried to focus on her friend's lesson. Although Ron was a decent teacher and clearly knew what he was talking about, she found that she simply couldn't focus on Ron's words. The dragon illusion kept drawing her attention away from the lesson. To her, the dragon was a web of magical strands that wavered slightly, and she was fascinated by the few strands that trailed away from the illusion, attaching to Ron's heart and wand. Her hands itched to reach out to them. Something inside her whispered that she could make the image do or become whatever she wanted—if she knew how to tug on the right strings.

For an instant the small girl wondered if everyone could see magic the way she did, before she pushed the thought out of her mind. Of course they couldn't; otherwise she wouldn't be as big a freak as she was.

Freak. That was precisely what she was.

Her parents called her special. Her brother called her amazing. The nice man in the black robes with the weird face had called her a goddess in waiting once. And sometimes she could even let herself believe them.

Unfortunately, she also saw how the servants looked at her when her mum and dad couldn't see. The whispers. The scared looks that the house elves traded behind her back. The way no one wanted to play with her on the play dates the nannies organized. The giggles of her classmates when she walked by. She knew what they were saying about her. She knew what they thought about her: they hated her, they feared her. All of them but Luna, and she wasn't liked by the other Ravenclaws either.

Pushing a few light strands from her eyes, Psyche gave Ron another shy smile. He wasn't at all the way her brother had said; he was nice and funny and he knew all kinds of stuff about dragons, knew things that weren't even in her family's books (and the Malfoys were supposed to know everything there was to know about Dragons). She loved the family's library. Whenever the pressures got to her she could sneak off and read in the cavernous room that housed the Malfoy family books. That room and those books were her sanctuary, and she loved reading about dragons most of all. Dragons were amazing creatures; powerful and fearless, they didn't worry about what anyone thought about them. She had wished on more than one occasion that she could be that way. Strong and fearless. Powerful.

Ron looked so nervous in front of the class! Psyche smiled to herself, deciding to play a little joke on him. Reaching mentally with her magic, she felt the power of his spell ripple and struggle beneath her grip. Dumbledore had been teaching her to channel her magic without a wand. The ancient wizard said that it was supposed to be their secret, because no one else could do magic like that. He'd even instructed her to keep the secret from her mum and dad, saying that it would upset them, although she knew it wouldn't. She knew them better than he did and they would be pleased. It would prove to them that she was as special as they'd always thought she was; she couldn't wait to tell them.

Gentle magic fingers touched the strands of the spell. It was like the smoothest silk sheet beneath her magical appendages. Caressing it, Psyche imagined the dragon turning on Ron and opening its mouth, as if to breathe fire at the Gryffindor boy. She plucked the strings of power like a harpist, and was starting to really enjoy the experience when she felt her magic snap back.

_Something's wrong_

The young witch quickly tried to reign in her power, panicking when she found that she couldn't. It was stuck to the spell like glue. She could feel the spell starting to drain her instead of Ron, the energy in her center drifting out of her body. She struggled to catch her breath. _Why is it so hard to breathe?_ Ron had stopped teaching, and was walking over to her now. _Stay away! _Psyche shouted. Or at least, she tried to. When she opened her mouth nothing had come out. She tried to stand, to back away. She tripped over another Ravenclaw First year, someone she hadn't noticed through the darkening bands around her vision. Ron was saying something now but she couldn't hear him. Hagrid was moving away, his huge stride carrying him to the castle faster than anyone else could run. She fell, and Ron caught her easily in his strong arms. Now he was shouting at her. She wanted to cry. She didn't want Ron mad at her. She was sorry. Didn't he know she was sorry?

The last thing Psyche Malfoy saw was the gleaming smile of the dragon, mocking her.

* * *

_One hour later_

_Lunch time at Hogwarts_

"What did you do to my sister, Weasley?" Draco Malfoy's voice carried through the hospital wing like the sharp crack of an especially loud apparation.

Ron turned to face the slender pureblood with a sigh; he definitely did not need this right now. Fleur and Madam Pomfrey had quickly reached the edge of the forest after being summoned by Hagrid, and levitated the younger Malfoy safely back to the castle. Ron had tried in vain to deduce what had happened to the young first year, but neither healer was talking. He couldn't even tell if they knew anything. Still, he could respect that even a shite like Draco Malfoy could be worried about his little sister, so he tried to put a good face on it.

"I didn't do anything to her, Malfoy." Ron answered exasperatedly. "I don't bloody know what the matter with her is. But don't worry about it. Madam Pomfrey says she'll be fine."

Draco snorted, clearly disbelieving the redhead. He stared past Ron, towards the partition that hid the bed his sister was lying in, as though he could see through it with nothing but willpower. Both boys could hear the medi-witches murmur to each other. "Good," he muttered distractedly. "I would hate to have to hurt you or your little sister." The smaller boy's first indication that his comment was ill-advised was Ron's huge hand on his throat, spinning him around and pushing him roughly against the stone wall of the infirmary. Draco's eyes widened in shock and rage.

"Touch my sister and I will fucking end you." Ron whispered fiercely, his eyes flickering briefly to the partition to ensure they weren't overheard. He flexed his fingers against the struggling blonde's throat for emphasis. "You're lucky I don't break your disgusting jaw after what you threatened 'Mione with…"

"Threatened Grang--?"

Ron couldn't be sure, and had no way to explain it, but he was certain that the brief flicker of surprise meant that Draco had no idea what he was talking about.

"That's quite enough, boys."

Dumbledore's voice was cheerful, but the undercurrent of warning caused the teenagers to step away from each other. Ron turned towards the headmaster with some relief. He would make things better and help Psyche. He had to: he was Dumbledore, that's what he did.

The aged headmaster stepped past the boys, holding a steaming chalice in his hands. Ron observed that the goblet produced a constant cloud of golden steam and occasionally sent small sparks shooting into the air, and wondered briefly what was inside. Hermione would probably know. Dumbledore turned his head slightly, addressing the boys: "Young miss Malfoy needs to have people around who care for her, but she does not need to hear you argue. If you must persist, then leave."

"That's very good advice, Headmaster. You should follow it as well."

This time it was Dumbledore's turn to be surprised as a pure crystalline voice sounded from the doorway in tones as cold as ice. The speaker removed an egg blue cloak from her shoulders, and shook out a tight braid of white blond hair which fell nearly to her waist. Beneath her blue cloak she wore a form fitting off-white dress with a high, stiff collar that opened at her throat and a tightly cinched golden belt that emphasized her slender waist and offset her high breasts. A satchel of silver leather hung from on a strap that crossed her body to rest on her opposite hip. Ron stifled a shudder. The woman, as stunning as she was, radiated an emotional coldness that reminded him strongly of a Dementor. Coolly, she considered the headmaster and his two charges with bottomless gray eyes.

It wasn't until Draco spoke that Ron realized who the woman was.

"Hello Mother." Draco greeted the woman with a pleased voice.

"Narcissa." Dumbledore acknowledged pleasantly. "I had no idea Draco had contacted you."

"Mrs. Malfoy, Headmaster," Narcissa sniffed. "My only daughter collapses and you fail to alert either Lucius or myself. The very least you can do is call me by my married name. I am not, after all, one of your students. At least not any longer." As she spoke she waved her wand and cleared a spot on the crowded potion brewing table. Removing beakers and vials from her satchel, she began pouring them haphazardly into a large goblet, or so it seemed to Ron. "I won't have you pouring that… concoction down my child's throat. Thank Merlin Draco owled when he did."

"It is a restorative, Mrs. Malfoy. One of my own designs. It will replenish her drained powers. You know I mean her no harm." Dumbledore placated.

"I will tend to her myself." The imperious woman instructed.

"You will do no such thing, Narcissa." Madam Pomfrey walked out from behind the curtain, her apprentice in tow. "This is my hospital. My world. You don't have a place here." The old witch's voice contained a hard edge that Ron had never heard, and he suddenly understood the difference between amused impatience and true anger in from the healer.

"You know I am a skilled healer, Poppy." Narcissa met the gaze of the stalwart woman with firmness. "You did, after all, train me."

"I thought you would honor my skills. Instead you perverted them." Madam Pomfrey whispered. "I thought better of you."

Ron watched as Narcissa allowed herself the briefest of smiles. It was cold and perfect; beautifully white and frozen dark. "You should have known better," She drawled in a diamond tone. "A woman your age should be less naïve."

She turned to Dumbledore. "I claim Mother's Right. And that means privacy. Draco, of course, can stay."

"I'm staying too," Ron interjected, with more courage than he was feeling.

No one in the room was more surprised than Ron was when he spoke up, the words seeming to tumble from his mouth without thought. If asked, he would not have been able to say why, but Ron felt an overpowering need to be present. There was something profoundly… unnatural about Narcissa Malfoy and his protective instincts demanded that he at least try to remain.

"You will do no such thing, Weasley." Narcissa snarled—the first real emotion the woman had demonstrated. Countless generations of inherited hatred between Weasleys and Malfoys flowered between the woman and the boy. "Go to class or hide behind your fat mother's skirt, I don't care which, but you will not stay here."

"I have a free period," he challenged, his Gryffindor bravery making a strong showing as he met the gray gaze of Malfoy Matriarch.

"Then you will accompany me to my office and play a game of chess with me." Dumbledore ordered.

"But headmaster…"

"But nothing, Mr. Weasley. Mrs. Malfoy is within her rights to demand that we leave. So we will." Dumbledore gave the pureblooded witch a small nod and led the group out of the infirmary.

* * *

Hermione rubbed her eyes, to trying to relieve the strain. The book she was spending her lunch period reading was denser and more technical than she was used to and a lot of the terms used were archaic, which meant that the brown-haired witch was forced to do an unusual amount of cross-referencing to understand what she was reading.

But it was worth the trouble. The book was considered to be the foremost authority on the Animagus transformation, and she wanted to be ready for lessons when they started. She was bound and determined to activate her form—if she had one.

Hermione leaned back in her chair, popping her back with a series of satisfying cracks. Idly she wondered what forms Harry and Ron would have; she didn't doubt either of the two wizards would have one—both of her best friends were far too talented not to have Animagus forms. She was hopeful, but realistic with her own chances. According to the book, there were slightly fewer muggleborn animagi than pure or halfblood animagi. The book made a vague reference to Atlantis and magic's that were worked there, but she didn't fully understand what the book talking about. Atlantean wizardry was far too advanced to be covered in fifth year classes.

"Excuse me," a voice spoke—interrupting her train of thought. "Is that _Hanson's elite guide to Transformative Artes_?"

Hermione looked up and sighed inwardly. Luna Lovegood. Or Loony—if you were a particularly obnoxious section of the Ravenclaw house. Or any Slytherin, for that matter. Hermione didn't approve of the name calling, but she had to admit that the girl was strange. She had a number of odd views about the Wizarding world and she wasn't afraid to speak them. Normally that would be something that Hermione would approve of, but honestly! Who would believe that the Minister of Magic had an elite unit of Fire demons locked in Genie bottles located within the department of Mysteries?

And it didn't help that she was so odd looking. While all witches and wizards at Hogwarts added their own personal touches to the black robes of the school uniform, Luna took personal touches to an extreme no other student did. Her straw colored hair hung lankly down her to her waist, a random assortment of braids and colored strands twined through it. Perched on top of her head was a knit hat of silver and blue, small silver charms pinned to it, creating a tinkling sound as she moved. Her eyes seemed wildly out of proportion to the rest of her face, and her body bordered on the emaciated in her frailness, and the school robes hung on her frame haphazardly, bottlecaps and bits of colored glass sewn or glued onto the fringes.

"Yes it is, Luna." Hermione answered. "Why? Do you need it for something?"

What that could be, she didn't have a clue. The book was very advanced. No fourth year would be able to use the magic inside of it. Most of it was still beyond Hermione and it was almost solely Animagus related—and there was no way McGonagall was going to let fourth years attempt the transformation.

Luna sat down next to Hermione, sliding her seat over until she was very close to the bushy haired girl. Uncomfortably close—if you were Hermione.

"Yes, I do need it. Professor McGonagall is letting me try the transfiguration with the fifth years."

Her wide eyes and high voice made Hermione more than a little uncomfortable, so the girl concentrated on what Luna was saying.

"Really? You must be very advanced." Hermione said appreciatively, impressed in spite of herself. "Do you wonder what form you are going to get?" she inquired.

Luna nodded vigorously. "I expect that I will be a dryad. I wonder if I'll get my own tree if I have a dryad form or if I would use my mother's? Or maybe a squirrel. I think it would be quite brilliant if I were a squirrel. Although I would suppose it would an awful lot of bother to gather nuts for the winter. Maybe a unicorn—although I suppose I shouldn't get my hopes up about having a magical animal form since they are so very rare. Plus I think staying a virgin forever would be quite dull."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. She really had nothing to say back to Luna. Squirrel? Unicorn? Dryad? VIRGIN? The slender girl's dizzying train of thought was almost impossible to follow and Hermione found herself floundering for a response.

Luna stared at Hermione for a few seconds. Then asked: "Do you fancy Ronald?"

"What!"

Hermione was more confused than ever. How had the discussion become about Ron? She answered the only way she could.

"I don't think that's any of your business."

Luna narrowed her protuberant eyes. "You don't have to be rude, you know. It was only a question."

"A rude one." Hermione retorted. She pushed the book towards Luna. "You can have this. I have to get to my next class anyway."

She started to walk away when an unpleasant thought struck her.

"You… uhh… don't happen to like Ron, do you?" Hermione asked nervously.

Luna let out a loud cackling laugh that caused her to receive a number of ugly looks from other studying students.

"No," she gasped. "I don't like Ronald. I don't like boys."

Hermione nodded, pleased with the answer. But as she walked away, the young girl had to wonder.

Who then, did Luna like?

* * *

"What's Mother's Right?" Ron asked.

He and the headmaster sat in his office, a chessboard spread out between them. Ron ordered a castle into a position threatening one of Dumbledore's bishops. The miniature priest let out a squeal of ungodly language at the elderly professor for leaving him in the vulnerable position.

Dumbledore leaned back and templed his fingers. "An ancient custom. It is in the laws but not well known. The ancient druids were of a matriarchal line and one of the concessions Roman wizards made to them was allowing them special privileges with those of their blood. Any mother can invoke the right of noninterference when it comes to any aspect of their children's health or magical education." Dumbledore pointed at his priest and muttered an order. The clergyman, moving with a vicious smile, attacked a nearby knight and removed him from his horse.

"Nice move, headmaster." Ron said appreciatively.

"I have always loved this game," the old man replied. "I've heard many stories of your skill and have wanted to test myself against you for some time." He smiled. "You have not disappointed, Mr. Weasley."

Ron shrugged. "Well, I'm not Harry, but I try."

"No, you are not Harry Potter." Dumbledore agreed. "But you do not need to be." His twinkling blue eyes captivated Ron with their humor and wisdom. "Do you know the difference between the Weasleys and the Malfoys?"

Ron shook his head.

"Malfoys believe that their blood honors their every action. Weasleys believe their actions matter more than their blood." The old wizard patted Ron on the hand. "Be proud of who you are, Ronald Weasley. I was certainly proud of you today." His eyes twinkled. "There are few enough people who would dare to raise their voice against Narcissa Malfoy."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked a little nervously.

"Which chess piece is the most powerful?" Dumbledore asked.

"The queen." Ron answered. His eyes widened.

"So you begin to see." Dumbledore said softly. "Between the two of them, Narcissa Malfoy is far more formidable than her husband. Lucius is an average wizard who uses his money and name to get what he wants. He walks the halls of political power with confidence, but without distinction."

Dumbledore leaned back and closed his eyes, speaking slowly. "Narcissa Black is a different beast entirely. Magical power is the only thing that concerns her. She, along with her two sisters were the most gifted witches of their generation. Since leaving Hogwart's she has had the luxury of wealth and opportunity to explore many esoteric branches of the dark arts that should never see the light of day. She has the cunning to avoid pacts with dark powers and the Mark, and she has had one of the best healers in England as a teacher."

"Why is that so bad?" Ron asked, confused. How could healing be a bad thing, he wondered

"Magic is a vast ocean of possibility, which despite nearly ten thousand years of study wizards have only begun to explore. Of the powers that can be found, or are waiting to be discovered, mastery life and death are the most dangerous. Narcissa Malfoy has made more inroads into that realm than I find comfortable."

"So she is like You-Know-Who?" The redhead ventured.

The headmaster shook his head. "No mister Weasley, I am not saying that. She is not without hope of redemption even on so dark a path as hers."

"Why not?"

"Because she loves her children, Ronald. Because no one is beyond hope if they can love." He answered simply.

Ron traded looks with the grave wizard. "Why are you telling me this, Professor? I'm not Harry." He said quietly. "We don't usually talk like this."

"I care for all of my students." Dumbledore answered. He smiled and added, "Yes, even Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley."

The smile flickered and died. "I am telling you this because by placing yourself as her daughter's protector, you will be in some danger from her. She will not brook anyone else's influence superseding her own. I'm also telling you because you saw her beauty and still recognized her danger."

"What does that mean?" Ron asked.

"It means, mister Weasley, that all that is beautiful is not good."

* * *

_Somewhere in the ocean off the coast of Britain_

_Later the same night_

Some say that the four founders of Hogwarts were the greatest Builders in the world, superseding even the great sorcerer-priests of Egypt or the crystalline temples of Atlantis. Others would argue differently, but no one disputed that the castle that they raised was a monument to their power and knowledge, which was greater than any other wizards in the world at the time. The school it held shaped the Wizarding world of the west incalculably, but each of the founders was a skilled builder in their own right. Helga had her legendary mobile greenhouse, Rowena had her island library, and Godric had his Hollow, but it was Salazar's Tower of Nightmares that everyone whispered about.

It was said to be a tower of black iron on an unplottable island off the coast of Britain. Salazar raised it after removing himself from Hogwarts, filling it with the darkest tomes and talismans of great power. Torture chambers honeycombed the base of the island and alchemical laboratories bubbled with dark brews. Twisting corridors of darkness guarded by wandering beasts led to massive doors of iron bound wood which opened into chambers devoted to the blackest of the forbidden arts. Salazar had worked his darkest archmagics within the tower's confines and bound everything beneath a web of wards that darkened the very sky overhead.

Lucius Malfoy walked briskly down a hallway in this tower, his confident stride a result of the good news he carried. His master would be most pleased with what he had to tell him. Voldemort was currently located deep within the tower, where he was busy in one of the many alchemical laboratories. Lucius knocked on the dark iron door of the lab when he reached the sealed entryway.

"Enter, Lucius."

With his master's permission, Lucius pushed open the door and proceeded inside. The room possessed a hugely vaulted ceiling that seemed to stretch forever before disappearing into the shadows overhead. He found the dark lord perched on precarious scaffolding looming over an enormous cast-iron cauldron. A slender acne-scarred youth stood nervously by his side. Voldemort smiled; a facial expression that caused the blond Slytherin's heart to quiver. "Join me, Lucius," the Dark Lord beckoned with a single fish belly colored hand. The powerful wizard's sibilant voice echoed eerily in the chamber.

Lucius climbed to the top of the rickety scaffold, joining his master at the edge. He looked down at the cauldron; he noted that the top of the iron casing was covered with a thin organic layer the color of amber. A shadowy form resembling a grotesque fetus gestated inside, a long dark umbilical cord connecting it to the side of the iron kettle. Lucius grimaced inwardly, though he kept a studiously blank expression on his face. The Dark Lord had tended meticulously to his mysterious creation for weeks now and Lucius had no desire to learn what exactly it was up close.

"Lucius, young Pierre here," and Voldemort motioned to the youth at his side, "has just returned from a mission in Paris. He was supposed to attain certain objects in the ministry there, something he promised he could do." Lucius noted that the serpentine wizard had a curiously benign look on his face. "A task he most spectacularly failed at. A young metamorphic Auror named Nymphadora Tonks stopped him before he could obtain what I desired."

Striking faster than a serpent, Voldemort closed his grip around the neck of the young death eater and held him over the cauldron in a truly impressive feat of physical strength. His spindly arm did not quiver in the slightest as he hefted the entire weight of the young wizard over the cauldron.

"You were _beaten_," he hissed, "By a pathetic female barely old enough to have stained her first uniform and you come back to me with whimpers and excuses." He shook his head sadly. "You have disappointed me." His voiced dropped to a sibilant hiss. "And I deal with disssappointment poorly."

He released his grip and let the young wizard fall into the cauldron. Lucius watched as he passed through the cellular membrane into the translucent embryonic fluid beneath. The wizard struggled, his hands and head causing the membrane to bulge grotesquely. The shadowy fetus moved suddenly, like a shark darting in to attack. The monster quickly enveloped the wizard, and crunches and slurps filled the air as the creature broke the wizard's bones, feasting on the marrow within.

Voldemort turned to the blond wizard. "You have something to report, Lucius?"

* * *

The Hag's Brood was about as unsavory a Wizarding bar as one could imagine. Unshaven wizards missing a variety of appendages sat at dark tables and whispered in low voices as they cobbled together dark plots. Magical humanoids lurked among the wizards, working their own brand of plots. Several vampires worked the room, looking to feed while stunning ghostly strippers twirled in midair, their translucent undergarments wisping into smoke and reappearing in time with their dance.

It was into this bar that Percival Brian Weasley entered. The former Hogwarts Head Boy kept his hood up, shadowing his face. Being Head Boy prepared a wizard for life in many ways: it taught leadership, exposed him to magical mysteries that other students didn't have access to, and developed personal discipline beyond that of other wizards. The badge afforded many opportunities in the Wizarding World, not one of which was any help when trying to get to a clandestine meeting in a dingy bar for a secret organization.

Luckily, dating Nymphadora Tonks prepared a person for many eventualities that weren't covered in the Head Boy handbook.

"Hag's Nipple." The redhead ordered when he reached the bar. He flung a few galleons on the counter. "And give me a clean glass." Percy looked around in distaste. "Or whatever passes for one."

The barkeep smiled, revealing a mouth of mostly rotten teeth and nodded agreeably. He plopped a slightly brown shot glass in front of Percy and poured soupy black liquor into it. Percy drank it with one smooth gulp and grimaced as he surveyed the room. The too sweet taste was sticky in his mouth and he wiped at the bluish stain that tinted his lips. As he watched, a dark cloaked figure rose from a table in the back and proceeded up the stairs. After a ten count, Percy followed.

He went up the rickety stairs and followed the dark garbed figure into the nearest room. The figure turned around and leveled his wand at Percy. The redhead held up his hands in surrender.

"The Phoenix burns cleanly." Percy intoned softly.

"And Brightly."

The figure lowered his wand and drew back his hood, revealing a raven-haired wizard of indeterminate age. Closing his eyes in concentration, the wizard's appearance wavered and in the blink of an eye Albus Dumbledore stood in front of the red headed wizard.

Percy smiled. "Hello Headmaster."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was careful to not let his revulsion show. "My lord, I merely wished to let you know that the idiot Fudge had decreased the security at Azkaban. It is back to being guarded almost solely by Dementors with only a handful of auror guards. It is a peach ripe for plucking." The pureblood smiled thinly at his lord and master.

"Very good, Lucius. You have done well." The Dark Lord closed his eyes and smiled. "All is very nearly in readiness. My plans near fruition. Soon, I will have the litany, the ministry, and the old fool and Potter in chains at my knees." He shuddered as if in terrible ecstasy.

"My Lord, when will we strike at Azkaban to free our brothers and sisters?" Lucius asked. "We could use the extra wands and Bellatrix strikes fear in the ministry like few others."

The dark wizard considered the pureblood aristocrat for several long moments with his scarlet serpentine eyes. "The wizarding world does not yet know of my return. So long that is true, my quieter plans can be implemented with only the Old Fool's Order as an impediment. I have no desire to fight two wars at this moment. My most loyal have waited for fifteen years; they can wait a few more months."

Lucius nodded and the pair lapsed into silence. The pale blond wizard shuffled nervously. His master hadn't dismissed him yet and he couldn't help but let his imagination run riot.

"Lucius."

"Yes Lord?"

"Why did you go to Hogwarts?" Voldemort's voice was placid and calm but venom laced each word.

Lucius spoke quickly. He knew that his life depended on how he answered in the next few moments.

"I went to check on my daughter, Lord Voldemort. Draco owled me and I was growing concerned about the influence the Old Fool could be having over my daughter."

"Were you spotted?"

"No. I used Polyjuice to disguise myself as a student."

"Who?"

"My son. I had some of his hair and used it. I obliviated him. He doesn't know I was ever there."

"How did you happen to have a Polyjuice potion and your son's hair handy?"

Lucius was pleased to hear that the force had left his masters voice and he relaxed slightly. "Narcissa, my lord. She enjoys certain… _games_, and I indulge her."

"Indeed." Voldemort gave Lucius a languid smile. "And how is your lovely daughter handling Hogwarts? You know how much I… cherish… her."

* * *

"Percival." The old wizard's eyes twinkled merrily. Clandestine activity seemed to bring out the best in the grey bearded teacher. He motioned to the small round table in the room and both men sat down.

"Why are we meeting like this, headmaster?"

"Hogwarts has eyes, Percy. And not all of them are beholden to me." The wizard answered mysteriously. "I thought meeting away from the school and away from ministry workers would serve best for our purposes and I already had business here."

Percy nodded.

"You said there was important information that I should know about?" Dumbledore began.

Percy nodded gravely. "I do. The minister is engaged in madness headmaster. He refuses to accept aid from the American President. He continues to protest that there's nothing wrong. He's even retracted the extra safety measures he had around Azkaban."

"Madness, indeed." The old wizard shook his head. "What sort of aid did the President promise?"

Percy shook his head. "I'm not sure I understood Professor. The president said something about sending over a mer team, but I don't know what they are."

Percy watched as the wizard lowered his head and mouthed something that, had it been any other wizard, he would have called a curse word.

"A M.E.R. team Percy." The wizard looked up again. "Magical Emergency Response team. Something that only a country as eclectic as America could come up with. You see, the wizards in America are far more closely integrated with the muggle world than wizards in most other parts of the world. They blend magic and the finest muggle weaponry into the most formidable fighting package on the planet. There are only ten of these teams in existence and each are composed of six members. They only fill spots on the teams when one of the members dies or retires. Even a single M.E.R. team would have been an invaluable resource."

"He is acting more and more irrationally, headmaster. I'd say he was under the Imperius curse if I didn't know any better. I don't know what to do."

"I do." Albus Dumbledore had never looked older to Percy than he did at that moment. He looked worn and tired; bowed by a weight he no longer desired to carry. "Your father is going to run against the Minister of Magic." He continued heavily.

"What?"

"I want you to leave the Minister's office and run a campaign for your father. I can get a special election called; I still have that many friends on the Wizemgamot." Dumbledore finished grimly. "We need a pro-Order leader in place, someone less bound by the vagaries of public opinion... and less easily swayed by bribes."

Percy stood up. "I have to leave… there are so many things to do: money to raise, speeches to prepare, staff to hire…"

He began walking towards the door when Dumbledore called to him softly.

"Percival, wait."

The harried redhead turned back. "What is it, Headmaster?"

"Nymphadora has returned from France." He said. "She has the next several days off. You should visit her; she misses you."

"Did she say that?" Percy asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

Dumbledore smiled gently. "No, but I am very old and wise. I know these things."

Percy stood paralyzed for a second, different emotions warring on his face. Then he shook his head. "What am I thinking?" he muttered, more to himself than to his old teacher, "There is so much work to do…"

Dumbledore walked over to and placed a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder. "Percival," he said softly, "You have been given a great gift. I have never seen Nymphadora so taken with anybody as she is with you. She loves you. Cherish that Percival, it comes along rarely enough."

Percy pinched his nose. "I don't know what to do professor… I never… this… Head Boy doesn't teach you how to deal with this." He muttered again. "I love her so much, it's scary…"

"Do you think it is easy for her, Percy? I remember when Nymphadora was sorted." Dumbledore chuckled slightly at the memory. "The poor girl was unsightly. Her skin was like clay, molding to her every thought. You see, metamorphmagi of her skill are incredibly rare, and young Miss Tonks had not received any level of training to control her gifts. Her eyes were mismatched and uncentered, her hair was all different lengths and every possible color, her arms and legs were all different lengths and sizes, and her nose and voice changed with every sneeze."

Percy watched the old wizard tear slightly as he talked through his memories. He wondered for a moment how many of those memories the ancient wizard had, how many generations of wizards he had stewarded through their formative years. How many students had he watched rise up, and how many had he watched fall down? The young wizard wondered.

"The one thing that was perfect, though" Dumbledore continued with a thick voice, "was her smile. You would think a child with as strange an appearance as Nymphadora possessed would be shy, reserved, or even antisocial. But nothing could have been further from the truth. Nymphadora was a ray of sunlight in our castle. She laughed and played, and learned everything that I could teach her about her gifts. She made everyone around her happier, more joyous. Very few embody the best of Hufflepuff house more than that child. I watched as she grew into a young woman of extraordinary playfulness and beauty; suitor after suitor attempted to win her affections—sometimes for obvious reasons, other times out of genuine feeling. Few were given even the slightest bit of acceptance and none have ever received the openness that you have been gifted with." Dumbledore's clear blue gaze met Percy's brown orbs. "Accept the gift, Percy. You will not realize what you have until it is no longer there."

Percy nodded and sighed. "You are right, as always Professor. I should go visit her."

Dumbledore smiled broadly and drew a single red rose from a deep sleeve. "It just so happens that Miss Tonks left a portkey leading to her room in my possession."

Percy smiled and took the rose. "Thank you professor. For everything."

Dumbledore nodded and gave the fastidious redhead a grin that might have been more at home on one of the Weasley twins. "Try and get some sleep Percival… eventually."

* * *

Harry stood outside the portrait leading to the Astral Chamber and steeled himself. Harry had been training with Dumbledore in the room since returning to Hogwarts, and he genuinely hated the lessons. He loved the headmaster and admired him, and honestly the man had been nothing short of amazing since learning about Voldemort's power finding a home in Harry's magical core. But the lessons… there was something so invasive, so unnatural, about Occlumency. His mental powers wanted to be freed; they ached to be loosed and left to roam. The snatches of thoughts and emotions that intruded upon his mind throughout the day were intoxicating. They were secrets, dark insights into people who were otherwise closed off to him. They made him feel good. Powerful.

Professor McGonagall drinks saucers of milk during the afternoon and sleeps in cat form more often the she sleeps in human form... Lavender Brown had fantasies about Neville Longbottom... Professor Flitwick was far darker than his jovial persona let on... Draco Malfoy had issues that made even Harry blanch.

And it was best not to dwell on the single glimpse he had of Mad-Eye's mind.

"Iron Will." Harry whispered, after giving a quick look back and forth to ensure he hadn't been followed.

The portrait slid back and Harry stepped inside, allowing the tranquil aura of the room wash over him. The mental and magical acoustics of the room were specifically attuned such that Harry was soothed just by entering it.

That is, until he saw Severus Snape waiting inside.

The stick thin potion master had his back to Harry, but the Boy Who Lived could never mistake the greasy black hair, sallow skin, or prominent nose of the potions professor.

"Where is the Headmaster?" Harry asked.

Snape turned to Harry. "Out. He asked me to cover his lesson for this evening." He sneered at Harry's reflexive look of horror. "Buck up, Potter. I desire this lesson less than you do. Poking through what passes for thoughts in your head is not near the top of my list of activities I wished to accomplish this evening."

Harry nodded glumly, and was caught off guard when Snape whipped out his wand and cast a rapid Legilimency spell at him. The mental knife drove into Harry's thoughts. It wasn't then gentle probing of Dumbledore's spell; it was a fiery rip that caused tears to spring in Harry's eyes. The force of the spell drove Harry to his knees in agony.

He was three years old again and he hadn't yet learned that he wasn't as good as Dudley… His cheek stung from the force of his aunt's hand when he dared to play with some of his cousin's toys… He was eight years old and his legs burned as he pumped them to avoid Dudley and his schoolyard mates as they chased him through the playground… He was eleven and held a sealed envelope in shaking hands…

The spell left Harry gasping for breath on the ground. He pushed himself to his feet, limbs aching as though they had been worked to their limits. Rage suffused Harry's consciousness, and his body began to shake with more than the force of exhaustion. Darkness encroached on the edges of his vision and a low growl fought its way from his throat. With iron discipline, Harry forced his rage downwards.

Completely unaware of the danger he was in, the caustic Potions Master mocked the gasping boy. "That is the saddest display of mental shielding I have ever seen, Potter. You are more of a dunderhead than I anticipated; if that is the best you can do after being tutored in the art by the Headmaster himself." Snape's face twisted with displeasure as he watched Harry take deep, sucking breaths in an attempt to calm his rapidly pulsing heart.

"The Headmaster warns me first." Harry protested. "He doesn't just attack me."

"Then he is going too easy on you. Occlumency is not an art that can be developed in safety and security. It is born of pain and struggle. Every wizard must shape their own personal barrier. It is an art that cannot be taught, Potter, only learned. I would have thought that you would have done even a tiny bit of research on your own if it's so important you learn it."

"I've been researching other things." Harry bit out through gritted teeth. Merlin! No one could test his temper like this man. His head pounded and he found concentration difficult. He tried to breathe like Dumbledore had taught him, visualizing the negative emotions as a black cloud he exhaled and positive emotions being inhaled, but it was proving impossible to focus on anything positive with the greasy haired potions master staring at him with open contempt.

Snape winced slightly and rubbed his arm, but he continued to watch Harry with a disgruntled look. "Are you nearly ready, Potter?"

"No."

"Good." Snape leveled his wand a second time and shouted, "_Legimens_!"

The spell was even stronger this time, almost strong enough to fling him bodily backwards. Harry stumbled and shot out a hand to stabilize him. His eyes rolled back until all that was visible was the whites, shot through with red from the strain of fighting against the mental rape. Harry drew back his lips, baring his teeth in a grimace as he struggled vainly to fight off the spell. Blood seeped from his nose as he mustered his mental strength.

He was twelve and walking with his wand out through the chamber of secrets… He could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. What was in here…? He was nine, and Aunt Marge's goddamned dogs ripped at his ankles…The fat woman watched with satisfaction as her bulldogs drew blood… He was talking in hushed tones with Ron and Hermione. They were making a plan to find out what Draco knew about the heir… _No! Can't let Snape find out about the potion…_

Something inside of Harry snapped. He threw back his head…

…And Severus Snape screamed.

The dark potion master began to claw at his arm. He tore the sleeve of his robe and through a red haze Harry saw the Dark Mark glowing like a white hot brand.

A wave of blackness carried Harry into the pit of the potion master's memories. He casually reached out and began digging through the memories he found there. He was six and his father was beating him with a leather strap for reading a book on the dark arts… He was eleven and his stomach flip-flopped as he nervously waited for the train to arrive… he was thirteen and he bounced on the balls of his feet as he screwed up the courage to…he was older now and spoke in grave tones with a gothic beauty before walking into a sealed hospital room…

Harry was flung backwards from the memories with a greater force than he would have believed that the potion master possessed. Still, the darkness remained. It filled him with hatred, expanding outward until the room was suffocating beneath weight of his black feelings. A distant part of Harry could feel the room trying to fight back, trying to bring him back from the edge, but the lingering echoes of harmony weren't enough to beat back the shadows.

Harry's face twisted in rage and he flung out his hand casually. Dark power coruscated from his hand and enveloped the potion master. Knowledge that was not his own flooded his mind. Potion recipes and alchemical solutions danced before his eyes, unconscious skills won through decades of diligent practice unfolded like a flower before him. He could pluck it if he wanted to; take the knowledge and leave the man without a shred of the only skill that made him worth anything to anyone. Leave the once sure hands fumbling and weak, leave the mind emptied of its learning. The thought appealed to the daemon within Harry: it would be a fitting punishment to leave the man no more adept at potions than Neville Longbottom, the student he so frequently bullied. It would be so easy… Snape was the betrayer…

"Why shouldn't he suffer? Why shouldn't be punished?" Harry whispered to himself.

_What am I doing? _

A tiny chorus of tiny voices spoke in Harry's mind. Hermione's voice. Ron's voice. Dumbledore's voice. Blaise's voice.Fleur's voice. His parents voices…

Harry closed his hand retracted the power. He left the teachers mind with a whisper and covered his face in horror. He almost… he could have… He wouldn't even allow himself to finish the thought in his head. He couldn't complete it. Wouldn't allow himself to complete it.

_What am I becoming?_

Harry turned and fled, leaving Severus Snape in a crumpled heap on the floor.

* * *

Blaise hurried down the hallway in little more than her sleeping clothes. Anxiously she rubbed her ring finger, scratching at an imaginary ring. Ten minutes ago it began burning, that meant only one thing:

Something was wrong with Harry.

The bloodring she gave to Harry had several essential qualities. One of the more important was that it allowed her to sense his necromantic power; they were both attuned to the dark energies and she could feel it whenever he exercised his abilities. The ring had thus far been quiescent, but as Blaise had lounged alone in the prefect's bath (Hufflepuffs were so easy to intimidate), a sharp stab of pain left her gasping for air. The icy tendrils left her arm numb and immediately she exited the bath, drying herself with a few rapid charms.

She followed Harry's black trail down the twisting halls of Hogwarts toward a rarely used section of the school. Dust covered the floors and the paintings slumbered, rendered inactive by the lack of students in the wing.

She found Harry sitting on some steps, cradling his head in his hands. He looked so much smaller than he did normally. Lost. Young. Weak. Blaise hadn't ever seen him this way before; even in his younger years the Boy Who Lived had always had something about him that was larger than life.

She shivered. The air here was so still and cold. It almost seemed to form a thin haze, causing her to blink rapidly. She couldn't think… So cold... It would never be warm again…

"Harry." She asked cautiously. "Are you alright?"

"Do I look alright to you?"

There was something very wrong with his voice. Images flickered at the edge of her mind. Her father's stern talks about the nobility of her blood and duties to honor it. The painful lessons in the arts of the vampire. The women who taught her seduction and the night they forced her to use all she had practiced…

His voice froze her veins. Then he turned his head and her thoughts died before she could name them.

She knew that he was a metamorphmagus. She also knew what that meant. His flesh was clay that reacted to his thoughts. It responded to his will and his darkest subconscious impulses.

The only thing that was the same about him was his hair. The curly black hair that had previously flown in all directions, before he grew it out to it's nearly shoulder (and tamable) length. The hair that she ached to run her fingers through.

But his skin was pale as a corpse and clammy in appearance. His nose was flat and flaring. His mouth had transformed into a crumpled flower that was flushed with blood.

But the worst thing was his eyes.

His wonderful, expressive eyes were gone. The eyes that could be as hard as the emeralds or as soft as flower petals had completely disappeared, and now shone with a dull red light in the darkened hallway. She could almost see his flat vertical irises soak up the light greedily. Despite the gleam they were more dead than alive.

"Lilith, Harry." Blaise whispered. "What happened?"

"Go away Blaise." Harry spit. "Leave before I hurt you, too."

"I don't think you are going to hurt me." Blaise replied. She wove a thread of vampire magic and sent it probing towards Harry. It disappeared into the vortex of his magical core in a flash. "What's wrong?" she asked softly.

"Your father." He answered bitterly. "Your father is holding out the training I need so that I will marry you. He won't help me because he wants something from me. Everyone wants something from me." He growled. "You. Your father. Dumbledore. My friends."

He spun around faster than Blaise could react and pushed her against the wall. "LOOK WHATS HAPPENING TO ME!" He screamed. "BECAUSE NO ONE WANTS TO HELP ME FOR ME! Did I bloody ask Ron for a Knut before I went to save his sister? he demanded. "Did I try and get my grades raised before I went after the philosopher's stone? Should I have asked Cedric's parents for a house before I showed them his body? Nobody does anything 'cause it's the right bloody thing, except me." He spat bitterly.

Harry pressed harder and Blaise struggled vainly. She was a half-breed vampire and he was a necromancer infused with the strength of the dead. There wasn't really a contest. Blaise could feel the stink of his hot breath against her cheek as he pressed in closer. "Maybe I should do something for myself. I could take you right now." He whispered. "I could make you want me more than you want to keep breathing. I could make my wishes the most important thing in your life."

This wasn't Harry, she suddenly realized. This was the other. The thing inside him that he needed to bring to heel. Harry didn't feel these things. He couldn't. These lusts were ancient and terrible appetites that he had neither the time nor the inclination to cultivate. They were the emotions of depravity built over decades of dark arts training and unsatiated lusts.

They were Voldemort's emotions.

Something had happened that shattered the mental blocks he had in place and released the beast, she suddenly understood. Like a river that had been dammed and then flooded, once released it flowed without thought of were it would go. It merely sought release from its bondage.

Harry pushed her away. "But I won't, because I haven't lost that much of myself. Yet."

"Harry…" Sickness filled her. She wanted to throw up. Could she have helped to cause this? Her pressures on him, her feeding the darkness within, hoping that it would cause a bond to form between them, could she have fractured whatever blockage inside him kept this beast bottled up? Maybe she hadn't sent him over the edge, but could her damned vampire energy sent the cliffside crumbling beneath his feet? She wondered and prayed it wasn't so.

"_Go away, Blaise._"

The power that threaded through his voiced seized control of her muscles and before she could protest or fight back, Blaise had turned around and run.

* * *

Soft footsteps echoed down the corridor. Harry listened as they drew closer. The person was small and light. Probably female. He closed his eyes and sighed as peace washed over him like a wave. He felt the energy flow around him, as his bones and features shifted back to their previous state. He felt clean again for the first time since the disastrous lesson. Warmth and light filled him; the darkness was still there, the powers and lusts still pulsed in the back of his mind, but the light was drowning out the whispers. That, more than anything else, told him who had come calling.

"Hi Fleur."

"'Ello 'Arry."

Her dulcet tones caused his muscles to relax, and he sagged against the wall. "Blaise sent you?" he asked from his perch.

He felt, rather than saw, her nod.

"You told 'er to leave, but you did not say where to go. So she came to me." Fleur whispered softly. Her warm, floral scented breath filled his nostrils and he felt her body draw close to his. "What 'appened 'Arry?"

The boy who lived grimaced. "I'm losing this fight, Fleur." He began bitterly. "I am losing the battle against these powers inside of me. His powers."

"You're learning, practicing…" she protested.

"It's not good enough. I'm getting more and more images from people's minds without thinking about it. I'm feeling angry almost all the time." He turned to face his girlfriend. "Did you know that I wanted to kill Neville the other day for interrupting me? All because he wanted me to teach him something. I got so angry, and then there were all these spells in my head. All of these things I could do to him. Horrible things. I like Neville, Fleur. Same thing with Cho. She made me so angry that I was about three seconds from cursing her when you dragged me away. I'm scared, Fleur. I've had this power for four months. Months and I can barely stand it. How much longer can I hold out? How much longer will I stay sane?"

Fleur wrapped her arms around him and her veela charm flared gently, encompassing them both. Harry tried to sink into the blanket of power she emitted, but he found scant comfort within.

"Maybe I should just give in to the inevitable." He said bitterly. "Maybe someone should put me down, like a sick dog before I hurt anyone else. Part of me wants this... likes this." He turned to his girlfriend and stared into her enormous sapphire eyes. "It's freedom, Fleur. Freedom from rules and responsibilities. It feels good to know that I can pick through peoples minds and hurt them if I want to." He wrapped his arms around his torso as if to ward off the cold. "How many more times," he whispered, "can I be pulled from the edge before I fall for good? Will I even care when it happens?"

"You are a good person 'Arry." Fleur answered gently. She stroked his face with feather light touches of her fingers. "Trust in zat."

"Trust." Harry pulled Fleur's fingers away from his face. He stood up and walked a few feet away from his girlfriend. "You trust me and I haven't returned it." He said while studying a faded tapestry on the wall next to him. He refused to meet her gaze. "There is something I could do that would get me the training I need, but it's something I don't want to do."

"You 'ave to do it 'Arry." Fleur said excitedly. "It could 'elp you with your powerz."

Harry smiled sadly. "Even if it means I have to marry someone I don't love?"

"What do you mean?" Fleur asked. "Marriage?"

"The vampires have agreed to train me, if I agree to marry the vampire king's daughter." Harry answered while staring past Fleur.

"Who iz zat?" Fleur asked. Dread filled her voice. She already knew the answer.

"You know who." Harry replied sadly.

"Blaise."

Harry nodded wordlessly.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Fleur demanded.

"I don't know. Lots of reasons. Partly I didn't want to think about it, and partly I was scared that you wouldn't care for me anymore." Harry admitted. "You're my first real girlfriend, and I didn't know how you would react. Besides, how would I even bring something like this up?" Harry threw up his hands. "This whole thing is so far out of my experience, I didn't even know how to begin."

Fleur stood up and backed away from Harry. He flinched when he saw her stiffness.

"You begin with 'onesty, 'arry. You 'ave let me love you when you've known all along that you required the o'zer training, that you would 'ave to marry ano'zer woman." She answered firmly. "You 'ave been seeing this girl? Blaise?"

Harry flushed guiltily, his eyes downcast. He thought of the picture Blaise had sent him… and the stolen kisses… the feeling of her teeth against his neck in her room… and the ring he wore. Although he had never technically cheated on his girlfriend with the half-vampire, Fleur could plainly read the lies and omissions on his face.

"You 'ave made me a fool, 'arry. I 'ave dated liars before," she continued, "I will not do so again."

"I love you." Harry said desperately.

_Please, Fleur, don't do this. I need you_ Harry wanted to shout. He did need her. He needed her light. He needed the radiance she took with her everywhere she went. He needed her love, and he needed her soft touch and soothing aura. He needed her to be his anchor to everything worth living for, and everything worth fighting for. He wanted to tell her that. More than anything, he wanted to tell everyone that he loved her so they could stop hiding their relationship. He wanted to shout it from the astronomy tower that he loved her because she was so extraordinary. He wanted to be selfish more than he wanted almost anything else.

But he didn't say any of those things, because deep down he knew it wasn't fair to her. She hadn't known what she was getting into with him, and she deserved better than he could give her. She deserved someone without his baggage. Someone with whom she could be an ordinary extraordinary girl. He wanted to be selfish.

But he wasn't. So he didn't say any of those things.

"We will find a way to 'elp you 'Arry, but about us--," she shook her head. "I do not know."

The paired stared at each other from across the hallway and neither spoke again.

* * *

More FAQ's

**Dumbledore isn't a manipulative old bastard in your fic. Why not?** Because I didn't like his portrayal in OOTP. It didn't square with the previous vision I had of the wizard. This man, who couldn't look Harry in the eye or give him even the simplest answer, was the same man who trusted him enough two years earlier to send him back in TIME! How can both of these actions come from the same man? I liked DD before Order of the Phoenix let me down. This fic does not take Order into account because LoB is an Au fic for his fifth year so I don't have to deal with him as a manipulative ass. As far as this fic is concerned, Dumbledore is a good and wise man that does the best he can based on his many years of experience and moral compass. There will be deviousness on his part not the stupid level of manipulation that was found in the fifth book. He is a good man and will stay that way in this series.

**Do you have something against Cho?** No. I actually like Cho a lot. One of these days I am going to have to write a Harry/Cho story. I have a few percolating in the back of my head that'll be great and mostly based on Chinese magical traditions. But for this fic, I thought it is more interesting to deal with a Cho that is much harsher towards Harry than either canon or most fan fics have her be. This portrayal does not truly reflect my personal opinion of Cho the way my interpretation of the Ginny character is. It cannot be said enough. Ginny is eeevil…

**What about the prophecy. How can Psyche be more powerful than Harry who is supposed to kill Voldemort? Are you stupid or something? **I have not mentioned prophecy because the one mentioned in OOTP does not exist in my 'verse. And there will be any number of people who are smarter, stronger, or just flat out better in every way than Harry. That does not negate that he is not smart, strong, or better than many other people. He is after all a necromancer, metamorphmagi, and potential archmage. That is enough for any wizard. No one is destined to beat Voldemort. Dumbledore could kill him, as could a trip down the stairs, or Draco Malfoy. Well, maybe not the last guy, but you get the idea. It makes the world a whole lot scarier imo, when there is no invisible hand of destiny working things through and we have to muddle along best as we can.

**Why doesn't Hermione tell Harry what the charm does that Ginny gave him? **She recognized the sigil as a love rune but does not know that it is actually enchanted in any way. That would, after all, be well above any fourth year's magical skills. As far she was concerned it was just a secret gift by a girl to a guy she likes. No sinister intent at all.

Please read and review.


	16. All Hallows Binding

Harry Potter and the Litany of Blood

Ch 16

By phoenixgod2000

Cast: Fleur Delacour…Gisele Buncheon Harry Potter…Orlando Bloom Sirius Black…Clive Owen Dominique Delacour…Nicole Kidman Ginny Weasley…Lindsay Lohan Albus Dumbledore…Richard Harris Severus Snape…Alan Rickman Luna Lovegood…Summer Glau Hermione Granger…Emma Watson Cho Chang…Zhang Ziyi Susan Bones…Jessica Simpson Blaise Zabini…Kiera Knightly

Author's notes: I want to thank my beta for all his hard work with this chapter. His insights helped me sharpen this story and I appreciate it.

* * *

_Dear Mama,_

_I am sorry that it has taken me so long to write to you. I have been very busy with my apprenticeship. I'm learning a lot from Madame Pomfrey, and I hope to share everything with you in greater detail when I get home for the Christmas Holiday. I am owling you now, Mother, because I need your calm advice and wisdom about something. A boy._

_I can practically hear your gasp of surprise as I write. Me. Asking about a boy. I have not done so since I came into my powers so long ago. But… I have been seeing a student here at Hogwarts since the summer. Harry Potter. I am just full of surprises, am I not?_

_Despite his youth, we have had a great time. He is kind and funny, a good kisser, and surprisingly romantic for such a young man. I had reservations about us at first because of his age, but other than a few bumps I have had no complaints._

_But there is more to Harry than that. He is undergoing a terrible trial. One I thought I could help him with. He suffers under tremendous strain due to uncontrolled magical powers. I had thought that my aura could calm him, and sometimes it does, but I cannot help wondering: is this why he wants me? Is this what I am to him? I do not truly think so, but still it is a poison that seeps into my thoughts and taints everything._

_As much as I worry for him Mama, I am angry at him. His parents pledged him to another, someone who is trying to use his need for a trainer to control his magical abilities as the carrot to force him into an arranged marriage. I can see in his eyes he is considering the proposition. Why then has he toyed with my affections? Am I the method by which he was going to avoid marriage? _

_I do not know what to do; I find myself torn in so many directions. Should I be angry? Fear for him? Allow myself to love him? Near the beginning of summer I cast a spell on him that linked our emotions. It has long since faded but I wonder if perhaps the connection made me see something that was not there... Am I merely deluding myself about what he truly means to me? My traitorous veela instincts tell me to fight this other girl for him and claim him as my own. He would be a mate that would give me many strong children and those bloody instincts are strong… Should I give in to them? I want to, but the human part of me thinks that perhaps this girl might be best for him._

_I am so confused, Mother. What shall I do?_

_Love,_

_Fleur Noel Delacour

* * *

_

"Potter must be punished for what he did to me!" Severus Snape growled.

The irate potions master paced back and forth before the headmaster, who sat serenely behind his desk, placidly watching as Snape spewed forth his anger.

"Severus, lessons go wrong constantly at Hogwarts. We don't punish young wizards who need to learn control over their powers." Dumbledore steepled his fingers and stared sternly at Snape over his half moon glasses. "Harry is no different."

"YES, HE IS!" Spittle flew from the sallow man's mouth. "Albus, he made my mark burn. Only the Dark Lord has that power. The boy has been corrupted by him. We need to turn him out." He said intensely.

"I will do no such thing, Severus. Especially after I warned you to tread lightly when tutoring Harry. Your legilimency probe shattered the block which had contained the dark powers of his mind." Dumbledore smiled grimly. "Be grateful that you are whole and unharmed."

"I thought you had been coddling the boy." Snape muttered while running his fingers through his greasy hair. "You were not so kind when you trained me."

"Your great weakness as a teacher, Severus, is that you only know one teaching style. To become great as a teacher you need to discover how to adapt yourself to your student and circumstances. If you had performed even the simplest diagnostic spell you would have discovered the barriers in his mind. Mental blocks that I myself created at great difficulty." Dumbledore rebuked. "As for the… particulars of your own training, I was only as harsh as you wished me to be. You forget, Severus, that after my forays into your thoughts I know you better than anyone else alive. I know precisely how badly you wish to punish yourself for your deeds as Death Eater, the struggle you underwent to learn Occlumency was of your own making, not mine."

The tall potions teacher sagged into the seat before the headmaster's desk, too tired to continue arguing.

"He… was in my mind." Snape said eventually. Dumbledore said nothing, his kind eyes giving the man the permission to be weak—something he could never be outside the safety of this room. "Not you, not even the Dark Lord, has ever made me feel like Potter did when his mind touched mine. He made me feel… pathetic, helpless; do you know what it's like to feel like that in front of James Potter's son?"

Dumbledore smiled. "If you gave Harry a chance I think you would find that you and he have more in common than you think."

"I doubt that." Snape snorted. "The boy is too much like his father."

"Severus, how long will you continue to lie to yourself in order to build the armor you use toward the world?" Dumbledore asked.

The potions teacher had no answer.

* * *

Hermione Granger found Luna Lovegood sitting by the lake, throwing flakes of crumbs into the water while softly humming a tune.

"Hello, Hermione." She greeted dreamily. "The giant squid isn't very active today, is he?"

Hermione frowned. "Is that what you're doing? Trying to feed the giant squid?"

Luna nodded and smiled. "It's a glorious day to sit by the lake. I come here to compose my History essays."

"I use the library. It's too noisy out here." Hermione answered back, a bit at a loss.

Luna's gaze drifted back towards the placid glass of the lake. "I lose too many things in the library," she said softly.

"Oh." Hermione vowed to herself to curse the next Ravenclaw she caught trying to steal Luna's things. Maybe a deduction of fifty house points and popping boils that spelled out "THIEF" would teach them…

"Why are you out here? I didn't think you liked me very much?" Luna's voice was sadder than Hermione had ever heard it and it tugged at the Gryffindor's heartstrings.

"That's… not true." The bushy haired girl protested weakly. Luna turned and smiled widely, and Hermione got the impression that her lie had been seen through. "I'm doing some advanced work and I wanted to ask for your help."

Luna's smile seemed to shine brighter after she heard Hermione's answer. "Why me?" she asked, a hopeful tone in her voice.

Hermione grinned. Odd and self-contained or not, even Luna Lovegood could get lonely. "Because you're the smartest witch I know and Professor Flitwick talks about you all the time. He thinks you're his best student since Lily Evans."

"That's kind of him." Luna bent closer to Hermione and the other girl unconsciously leaned in as well, attracted by her large luminous gaze. "What are you working on?" she whispered conspiratorially.

"Portkey."

Luna whistled. "Those are quite difficult. Advanced NEWT level; well beyond seventh year charms."

"I need another head to help me with the Third Rule of Correspondence." Hermione admitted.

"You've already figured out the first two?" Luna's eyes got even larger. "Then you know how to apparate."

"In theory." Hermione answered. "I haven't really tried yet."

Luna stood up in a swift move that sent Hermione sprawling to avoid being knocked in the head. Luna gave a short, barking laugh and helped Hermione to her feet.

"Let's go splinch something."

* * *

Harry sat on the bench as his team prepared for their second match of the season. Ron stood in one corner, doubled over as he was overcome by nervous stomach cramps. The twins weren't helping as they sang a loud, off-color song about bodily fluids. The other members performed their pregame rituals in silence. Harry sat, biting a quill as he composed a letter to his godfather.

_Dear Padfoot,_

_I've been having a bad time lately. I don't know why, but it seems like everything is going wrong. First, a few days ago Snape tried to give me a lesson is Occlumency, and I almost killed him. Fleur was the only person that could calm me down, but when we talked afterwards she found out about the deal with King Nightshades. She was pretty mad about it… we broke up. She was right, I guess, but it still hurts. We haven't talked since then._

_I don't know what to do, Sirius. My family made this deal and a part of me wants to accept it just because of that. My father has this… I guess, black mark on his honor and I hate that it's there. More than that, I've realized that I really need their training. I'm getting worse. I thought that between Hermione and Dumbledore, I could find some answers, but I don't think that any answers are coming. Occlumancy is helping a little, but it won't last._

_But then there's Fleur... She's not at all like what I thought she was when we competed in the Tri Wizard Tournament. She's funny and interesting and an amazing witch. (And she's beautiful, but I already knew that). Her aura is the only thing that calms me sometimes, and I think I may have ruined things between us. I snuck around behind her back with Blaise. I lied to her-maybe unconsciously I'm even using her. I don't know. Maybe part of me thinks she could be my way out of marriage. I don't want to use her, Sirius. I love her._

_I just don't think I'm what's best for her._

_And then there's Blaise... If I have to get married, I could do a lot worse. I like her. I like her a lot. She's sarcastic, edgy; she vibrates with energy all the time. Everything she does is a surprise. Plus she's pretty, almost as pretty as Fleur. Just as hot, sometimes. Every once in a while I look at her and there's this connection between us…_

_But I don't want to be forced into marriage. Even a marriage with someone as amazing as Blaise. I hate people making decisions about my life and this is a huge one. What do you think Sirius? What should I do?_

_Harry_

Harry stared at the scroll for a moment before rolling it up and tying it to the leg of a school owl. "Take this to Sirius Black," he murmured to the owl. As the great bird leapt up in a flutter of feathers, Harry felt a familiar pang over the loss of Hedwig. He vowed to redouble his efforts to bring her back.

"Let's go, guys and gals." Angelina Johnson said. "We got some Ravenclaws to beat."

Harry stood up and cracked his neck. Everything drifted away as he turned his mind to the game.

He had a Cho to spank.

* * *

He did indeed beat Cho badly.

So badly, in fact, that she crashed her broom; reducing it to splinters. For the rest of the season she would be forced to use one of the slow school brooms.

Harry felt a twinge of regret over the destruction of the broom, but it soon went away.

And so, time passed for Harry. He spent his days avoiding Blaise and Fleur and his nights he spent working on Ancient Runes and Arithmancy homework. He was pleased that he was doing so well in both classes; the decision to take them had been made on the spur of the moment and when he started he wasn't sure that he would do all that well. But he was. In fact, he was getting the best grades of his academic life. Every teacher—even Snape—had noticed an improvement in his skills.

Of course, without Ron or Hermione around he was able to focus much more on his schoolwork. Ron was always out and about with Susan. His skills on the Quiddich field had given him a number of admirers in all four houses and for once Ron was enjoying some attention on his own merit. Harry was happy for his best friend, but he missed their late night chess matches

Ron's popularity came as great misfortune for Hermione, who lamented the shallow absorption of most of the Hogwarts female students. She barely spoke to Ron, although Harry knew it was more about her hurt feelings than anything else. She was projecting so loudly that he couldn't help but figure it out. Harry thought briefly about talking to her, but decided against it when he realized he had no idea what to say. Besides, she was always locked away with Luna Lovegood, the strange Ravenclaw who seemed to be one of the few witches at Hogwarts who could match the muggleborn's brain power.

Life went on. Seemingly before Harry could blink it was Halloween.

* * *

_Halloween night_

Harry sat in the great hall of Hogwarts, eating the huge feast in a dark silence. Ron sat opposite him; Susan perched comfortably on his lap. They couple shared both food and a disgusting patter of love talk that was sweeter than any of the candies set before Harry.

Hermione sat at the Ravenclaw table next to Luna and Psyche. The first year listened wide-eyed as the two older girls traded ideas back and forth in the arcane speak of upper-level Arithmancy. Although, Harry noticed, Hermione paused every few minutes to glance in Ron's direction. Every time she did, her mouth drew into a tight line and she returned to her meal in barely contained anger.

Harry couldn't even talk to Ginny; for some reason she wasn't at the feast. He filed that bit of knowledge away so that he could ask her about it later.

Harry was distracted from his thoughts when he noticed someone enter the great hall that sent him into an even darker tailspin.

Fleur looked around the room, passing quickly over Harry before settling on the Slytherin table. More specifically, on Blaise, who was seated at the far edge of the table, away from the door. With confident strides that showed off her slender body to mouth watering perfection, Fleur walked over to Blaise and bent over to…

…A letter dropped in front of Harry and he jumped, his attempt to divine what the two women were saying ruined by the swoop of the owl depositing Harry's mail. A moment later Harry had it open.

_Dear Pup,_

_Having girl problems, are you? Don't worry, ole Padfoot'll help you out. Sorry I couldn't write earlier, but I was on a mission for the you-know-what._

_I know you're in a tough spot Harry, but I don't do anything rash—like accepting a proposal from a vampire king. Your father fought long and hard for the right to marry the woman he loved instead of the woman his father had decided he would marry. Your father realized that the heart was more important than family honor, so don't do anything on that account._

_As for Fleur... Yeah, you probably screwed the pooch (heehee) on that one, but there will always be other women. I'm not promising any other sexy veela healers though; Fleur was definitely a one of a kind when it comes to that one. You say you love her and I believe you. I wouldn't worry about you using her, consciously or otherwise. I know all about using women and I don't think you have it in you. Trust in your heart and I think everything will work out for the best._

_Not that the best will necessarily be you and Fleur. You seem to have some feelings for this girl Blaise. Talk with her, spend some time with her. Hell, take her to the Yule Ball. Find out for sure if there's anything between you. I'm not going to lie to you and say that marrying this girl wouldn't help—because it would, but don't do it for that reason. All that matters is that you are with the one you love. Nothing else. _

_Hope that helps_

_Padfoot_

Harry leaned back. Even Sirius was betraying him. Telling him to at least explore this thing with Blaise. Maybe not do the marriage, but take her out. Where could that end but with him marrying her? Trapped with her.

Trapped. It was a stupid word when used in the context of a pretty girl wanting to spend time with him, but it was a word that fit nonetheless. What else could it be if he were to date her? He would like her, he knew he would. He already did. Would it be that much of a stretch to marry her? Would it be that great a leap?

Maybe he was being too stubborn about the whole thing. Maybe Blaise would be a great thing for him. Maybe he would be happy with her. Still, there was something that rankled him about the whole thing, like a part of him was being held hostage with threat of his power hanging over him. Harry leaned back and closed his eyes to think.

When he opened them again Fleur and Blaise were gone.

* * *

Ginny crept slowly through the abandoned hallway, always sure to keep to the shadows and to make no noise. Just because everyone was at the Halloween feast didn't mean she could be careless. She carried a small sack with her and was very careful to make sure that it didn't catch on anything.

The dusty hallway belonged to one of the unused wings of Hogwarts. Over the centuries, the ancient school had boasted a number of classes and teachers that went above and beyond the standard curriculum. Astral Arts, Internal Alchemy, and other obscure branches of magic all had classrooms around the school that were no longer used because their art was no longer taught or there was no longer a teacher. Ginny stopped in front of a faded portrait of a thin, stunning woman in robes designed to show off her body rather than conceal it, as a creature burst from within a flaming egg inside a runic pentacle.

The art of Binding was nearly a forgotten skill.

With the wave of her wand and a brief muttered spell, the portrait slid away and Ginny slipped inside. She hefted her wand like a torch and muttered _"Luminos." _The tip of her wand began to glow like one of those neo tubes that her father had told her muggles used for light.

Ginny placed her bag of supplies on the ground and looked around the dusty, web-filled room. It appeared that it hadn't been used for centuries: cobwebs hung in every corner and motes of dust filled the lit room wherever Ginny walked. A large pentagram was engraved over the center of the floor, its wide grooves filled with the residue of ages.

The art of Binding had been forbidden for a very long time.

Ginny began preparations for the binding. First, she scourgified every corner of the room, paying particularly close attention to engraving, making sure no dust survived. Second, she pulled a worn leather book entitled _"Binding Thyne Own Daemon" _from her bag. She had stolen the ancient tome from the restricted section of the library the week before. Next, she removed five candles, placing them at the five points of the pentagram. Last, she removed a fist sized statue of a fat, headless fertility goddess that had been in the Weasley family for generations, and a flask of liquid. She placed the statue in the middle of the pentagram and poured the thick, dark liquid which she had carefully made from her own essences into a thin ceramic bowl conjured for the ceremony. Her preparations complete, Ginny removed her clothes, depositing them carefully in an empty corner. She shivered slightly in the coolness of the room, gooseflesh rippling across her skin. Naked, she dipped her fingers into the liquid, and proceeded to paint her breasts, abdomen, face, and nether regions with twisted sigils of opening, sexuality, and other, even more blasphemous decorations.

Ginny closed her eyes when she was finished. This was the moment of no return. If she began the spell there would be no turning back she would be bound by rules both ancient and dark to compact with what she drew forth. A quivering voice, the voice of reason, the voice of her family, told her not to continue.

Ruthlessly, she forced those voices into the pit. She was a Gryffindor, she thought savagely. There was no place for fear.

"_In nomen Istar," _she incanted. _"In nomen of atrum matris, audite meus dico of diligo."_

As she spoke, black flame lit the candles flickered in an unseen wind.

"_Sanctus diligo ut exsisto non exsisto. Diligo ut must victum totus alius_."

With a series of tiny cracks the statue began to tremble.

"_EGO spondeo vobis meus pectus pectoris, meus phasmatis, quod quicumque est mei. Adeo mihi Istar, temerarius meus dico."_

With a thunderous sound the statue cracked like an egg. Mist poured from the shattered fragments. As Ginny watched in amazement, the mist moved, psuedopods extruding outward to test the boundaries of the stone engraving. At the barrier, golden sparks flew up as the misty being attempted to cross. With a hiss, the tentacle retracted and the mist gathered in on itself, forming into a humanoid shape.

"You're so… beautiful." Ginny murmured.

She couldn't do more than talk because of the fatigue that overwhelmed her. She sagged to the ground, watching the thing she had called forth. She prayed that the circle would hold; she was so exhausted that she didn't know if she would be able to drive it off. Her arms and legs felt like weights, and it was a struggle to push herself to her knees. Her chest heaved with exertion, and a thin sheen of sweat covered her brow. Still, she couldn't help but feel a thrill. She had done it; she, little fourth-year Ginevra Weasley had summoned Istar, Patron Mother of Succubae. Of course, it had taken the additional power of Halloween and the diminishing of the veils between worlds to do so, but it was still an impressive feat of magic.

The demon she had conjured was indeed beautiful. Starry blue mist took on a vaguely feminine shape, flowing trails of mist drifting behind her like waist length hair. The suggestion of full breasts and hips lent a seductive air to the creature, and the imprint of heavy lidded eyes and luscious lips completed the package of a sexy, but fleshless being.

_Why have you summoned me, little witch?_

Istar didn't move its lips at all. The airy voice seemed to come from all directions. It was as though she whispered seductively directly into her ear. It was strangely intimate, and shudders of pleasure and barely conceived of thoughts of fleshy gratification passed through Ginny's body.

"I love someone, and he doesn't love me back." Ginny whimpered

_Harrry Potterrrr_

The seductive wind rolled Harry's name in a way that sent goosebumps popping on her skin.

"He has so many other women after him." Ginny whispered. "Women who are smarter, older, and prettier than I am… I can't compete.

_Give upppp_

"No!" Ginny cried. "I won't! I know that if I could just get him to notice me…"

_He would be yoursss_

Ginny could hear the amusement in the demons voice. Her eyes narrowed. "Don't laugh," she cried out. "You just don't understand. You can't understand."

_Do you think I cannot love, little witch? How wrong you are. How little you understand who you have called forth. I have loved more deeply and more passionately that you can ever imagine._

The fleshless form pressed itself against the barrier. Tiny puffs of mist rolled outward and she passed her star filled hand along the invisible wall. Ginny shuddered. She could practically feel the caress of Istar's hands on her flesh. Misty fingers traced across her skin, everywhere, leaving tingling trails in their wake. Ginny whimpered as she reached orgasm, and still the hands didn't stop. She could already feel her second climax building, close on the heels of the first. This was impossible; no being could break the barrier. Nonetheless, she could feel it. Closing her eyes, she lost herself to the delicious sensations that were currently racking her body.

_My veins burned for my lover. My loins ached for his sweet embrace. I followed the one I love out of the higher realms. I sank into the fleshless pits of Abaddon for him. I gave up all that I was to become less than lowliest cherub out of love. Do not presume to lecture me on passion._

"Just help me! Please!" Ginny cried out.

_What will you give me in return, little witch?_

Ginny moaned. "Anything. What do you want?"

_Flesh. Sex. Passion. Everything I once had and lost because of foolishness._

"How can I…"

_Break the seal. Allow me to into your flesh. Together, Harry Potter will be unable to resist us. _

This caught her attention, like being dropped in a pool of ice water. "Possess me?" Ginny shook her head. "No!"

_Not possession. Melding. Where there was once two there would be one. We would be of one soul, one spirit. I could grant you power, Ginevra. Power to have Harry. Power to make your mother respect you and stop treating you like an infant. Power to make yourself known in your family. Wealth. Knowledge to bind an army of demons. Near immortality. It could all be your. Sexual delights that would drive lesser minds to madness could be your nightly revels…_

"How can I believe you? Demons are all supposed to be liars." Ginny asked doubtfully.

_You have my word of honor…_

"…Which no demon can break." The redhead finished slowly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in and out, attempting to calm her racing heart. What she did next would affect the rest of her life. Slowly… without looking… Ginny raised her wand and aimed it at the floor. "_Reducto"_

The energy blasted only a small fragment away from the circle barrier, but it was as though the entire barrier dropped. The misty form of Istar lost cohesion and rolled over Ginny. Seeking tendrils caressed every orifice, invading her. The young redhead's body arched and she grunted animalistically as the mist drained out of the air and into her body. Soon, the redhead was left alone on the floor of conjuring chamber.

Shaking with laugher.

* * *

A few days earlier

_My dearest Fleur,_

_It is so good to hear from you. We have not had a letter in so long, little Gabrielle was worried that you had forgotten all about her in your foreign adventure. I assured her you had not. Write her a letter. Do not make a liar of me._

_I confess, I never expected to receive a letter such as this from you. Always, you have been self-possessed and able to balance the men in your life like a true veela. But, like all veela, love is your weakness._

_And what a weakness it is. We are untamable, until we find the man or beast that can make us theirs. Is this Harry Potter such a man? I do not know. I have heard whispers about the boy, even here in France. The tales of his feats are many, and if even a tenth of them are true he is truly a man worthy of my daughter. _

_As for whether he is using you or not... I do not believe so. From what I have heard, he seems like a genuinely good young man without artifice or guile. Trust what your heart says. If it says to trust him, do so. We Veela listen to the singing of our hearts for a reason: they are seldom wrong._

_This other girl is most troubling. He does not love her, but he needs her. He is bound to this marriage in order to train his rare talent that is making him ill. It is a quandary that I confess I will be little use in. I know we veela are jealous and possessive creatures. We want what we want when we want it and when another woman comes between our man and us we wish to burn our obstacle to ash._

_But you are also a human being. And love for humanity is not about possession or ownership, it is about sacrifice. It is about doing what is best for the one you care about and not yourself. It is a thing of beauty, not desire. I know what your veela nature is telling you. But listen to your humanity and let that guide you. If you love this boy, and he needs something you cannot give him, do what is best for him._

_Let him go and trust to fate to bring him to whomever he needs._

_Dominique Delacour

* * *

_

_Halloween night_

"What do you want, Veela?" Blaise asked angrily.

She had followed Fleur's slender form out of the great hall and into one of the side passages. Flickering everburning torches cast eerie Halloween light throughout the hallway, creating deep pools of shadow everywhere. Blaise felt it strangely appropriate that this was the place she was finally going to have her confrontation with Fleur.

""Arry… 'e told me about you. About zee marriage proposal." Fleur began.

Blaise gave her a tight smile. Whether it was sad, triumphant, or some flickering meld of the two was impossible to say.

"I wondered why I hadn't seen you two together." Blaise shook her head. "I'm amazed that no one else figured it out. You were way too friendly to just be friends."

"Can you 'elp him?" The blond veela asked intently.

"If anyone can," Blaise's smile died down instantly, "It will be my father."

Fleur slumped against the wall. "I cannot 'elp im. I have done research, tried to use my glamour on 'im. It works for a leetle while, but every time, et grows weaker, and takes longer to 'appen." Her voice was thick and her accent blurred her words to near incomprehensibility, but Blaise got the message.

"You really do love him, don't you?" Blaise asked.

"Zat surprises you?" Fleur asked bitterly.

"A little," Blaise admitted.

"'Arry… 'e is easy to love." Fleur answered softly. "I zought that I would be a first for 'im in some ways. I zought I would give him zomezing zat would be a good story for when he was old. I zought zat was what I would be. But it became more. Much more."

Blaise watched as something, some spark in Fleur's eyes died while the veela spoke. She felt a pang of something, something that were she not a Slytherin she would have labeled sympathy. Fleur looked up and their gazes met. Not for the first time it registered on Blaise how stunning Fleur was. Her impossibly large blue eyes were wet with emotion and her perfect lips quivered with pain. It suddenly struck her why Fleur was talking to her. She was giving Harry up, because she wanted to save him. Blaise suddenly felt hollow inside.

"I swear Fleur: I'll take care of him."

The soft words hung between them without any malice or triumph as one lover of Harry Potter passed the torch to another.

* * *

Ginny felt nearly every eye on her as she entered the great hall. Fresh instincts allowed her to put a certain wiggle into her walk that attracted the eye. She exulted in the swirls of passion and thoughts of desire erupting from all around her; it was heady and addicting, but she only had eyes for one person.

Harry Potter.

Even now, he sat unnoticing her at the Gryffindor table, making a joke with Ron and Susan. The blond tart had finally managed to pull herself away from her brother and sit properly next to him. Ginny seated herself next to Susan, and watched in glee as Harry's eyes lit up when he saw her; the smile he presented her with was nothing short of dazzling.

"Hey Gin." He greeted. "Where've you been hiding?"

Ron semi-nodded in greeting, his mouth currently occupied by Susan.

She waved off his question. "Here and there."

Harry smiled warmly. "Well, at least you're here now." He offered her some sweets off his plate and she thanked him. The barest hint of a blush crossed his cheeks—though it may have also been a trick of the light. She also found him staring at her a little.

"What" she asked. "Do I have sticky on me?"

Harry shook his head and grinned with clear eyes. "No, I was just thinking. There's something different about you. I just can't put my finger on what."

* * *

Hey everybody, I'm sorry I took so long for these two chapters to come out. I spent most of my summer looking for a new job. I got the job so now I'm going to spend a large portion of my time moving to a new city. Because of that I haven't had much time write. And what I have written has pretty much sucked thanks to the stress. nonetheless I hope you like these two chapters.

read and review both please


	17. The Shape of Things

Harry Potter and the Litany of Blood

Ch17

By Phoenixgod2000

Casting:

Harry Potter…Orlando Bloom Ginny Weasley…Lindsay Lohan Fleur Delacour…Gisele Bundcheon Luna Lovegood…Azura Sky Mad-Eye Moody…Sean Connery Neville…to be cast Ron…to be cast Blaise Zabini…Kiera Knightly Minerva McGonagall…Dame Maggie Smith Albus Dumbledore…Richard Harris

* * *

_Late November_

Harry dodged the jet of red light and countered, sending a whip of blue energy spinning past Neville's face. The chubby boy ducked left with more grace than Harry expected, bringing his wand downward. A whispered word later, and a patch of ice formed beneath Harry's feet. The boy who lived stumbled and Neville, grinning, stepped forward to disarm Harry when a golden spark ripped Neville's wand from his grasp.

The chubby youth shook his stinging hand. "That was a good shot, Harry. I didn't see it coming." Neville admitted while massaging his wrist. "Expelliarmus is a little strong, though."

Harry slapped him on the shoulder. "Toughen up, Nev," he joked, his gaze resting on Ginny's curved form across the room. "Malfoy isn't going to take it easy on you."

Harry tore his eyes from Ginny's backside and glanced around the room. Everywhere he looked he saw students in dueling breeches and vests practicing the things he had taught them. Harry shook his head. He could scarcely believe how many people wanted to learn competitive dueling from him, just to prepare for the tournament after Christmas. Apparently Snape's official dueling lessons in the great hall weren't favored by anyone other than his own House. He still wondered how so many people could fit inside this room.

Apparently not even a tournament floor twice the size of the great Hall was beyond the room of requirement.

* * *

"_It's great Dobby," Harry assured. The little green elf's ears perked up and his great eyes welled with tears._

"_Dobby is honored by the great Harry Potter. Never was Dobby thanked by a wizard before he met Harry Potter sir." He clutched at Harry's uniform robes and buried his face in them._

_Harry let Dobby entertain himself. He had actually done an amazing job. The Room of Requirement had shaped itself to his exact wishes. Dueling clothes and masks hung from racks, and a bookshelf of dueling manuals dominated one entire wall. _

_Harry had only turned away when he heard several people enter the room behind him. Ron and Hermione had shown up with Neville and Lavender. And Parvati. _

_And Padma._

_Luna Lovegood also made an appearance, looking for the entire world as if she had wandered in the room by accident. _

_Harry frowned and approached Neville. "What's going on?" he asked in a quiet, but angry tone. Even as he spoke, Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, and Anthony Goldstein walked in the room._

_Lavender blushed prettily. "It's my fault." She interjected. "I had to tell Parvati."_

_Parvati held up her hands. "I only told my sister." She protested._

_Padma giggled uncomfortably. "I… uhh… may have told a few people."

* * *

_

"Everyone is really excited by your lessons." Neville whispered to Harry. "Snape is only helping the Slytherins, and Fleur is too attractive for the girls to listen to and too distracting for the guys."

Harry smiled but stayed silent and watched Ginny duel. Her flame-colored mane danced as she bobbed and weaved between jets of energy.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Neville said admiringly.

Harry laughed, the spell broken. "She's Ron's little sister, and last time I checked he could still clean your clock."

Neville shrugged. "Lavender can beat me up. I was just appreciating the view."

Harry slapped his friend on the shoulder and shouted, "Times up for tonight. Three days and we'll meet again."

Everyone stopped what they were doing and began stripping out of their dueling clothes. The room shifted, and suddenly it was divided into two partitions: one for the boys and one for girls. Harry cleaned himself with his wand and fought down his active imagination, as images of Ginny's taut freckled skin danced behind his eyes. The room shifted back when everyone had finished changing.

Singly and in pairs, the room gradually emptied. As had become tradition, Hermione and Ron left separately; Hermione with Luna and Ron with Susan. Harry felt a twinge of sadness at his friend's slow drift away from each other.

Soon enough, Harry was alone in the room. He wandered around the hall, reveling in the silence. Solitude was a precious commodity for Harry these days. He hadn't been speaking with Fleur for so long that he could no longer tell if she was avoiding him or he was avoiding her. Potions class was strained with Blaise, and the pair of them worked without the easy rapport they had enjoyed earlier. Many of the students still didn't believe him about the events at the end of the previous school year, and their whispering cut him more deeply than he let on. Even some of the students who came to his dueling lessons seemed to attend more for the opportunity to see Harry go insane than to hone their skills. Really, if it hadn't been for Ginny keeping him company over the past few weeks he'd have been terribly lonely.

He was still pondering on his loneliness when the red jet of a stunner sailed over his shoulder. Harry spun around, a disarming spell departing his wand at unbelievable speed. A figure in a shimmering invisibility cloak appeared briefly before vanishing again. Harry continued moving, and muttered a charm beneath his breath, one that Professor Flitwick had demonstrated more for its amusement value than its military application but nonetheless effective. A shower of small golden motes filled the air, swirling on invisible eddies. They fell harmlessly to the ground in most of the area but around the invisible figure they adhered to him and the cloak. Harry grinned ferociously, and fired a series of stunners squarely into the middle of his now-visible attacker.

"Enough Potter." Alastor Moody's voice growled out as he parried the stunners with a few flicks of his wrist.

Harry didn't lower his wand. "Why did you attack me?"

"To check those reflexes of yours. I've been standing in the corner for the past hour and you didn't notice. I coulda killed half the students in the fifth year had I had a mind to." Moody sneered. "Very sloppy. But that's gonna change."

"How?" Harry challenged.

Moody smiled, a twisted scar covered grimace that warped his face even further towards hideousness. "I'm going to train you, boy. Not that mental crap of Dumbledore's, mind you, but real Auror-grade training. I think you've got potential. Using that glitterdust charm was a stroke of genius, boy."

"Why train me?" Harry asked confusedly.

"Because most of your classmates are dimwitted wand-slingers that won't ever be able to throw a proper stunning charm. You're different, boy, and I'm bored teaching them, so I decided you're going to be my own personal project. You agree?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure."

Faster than Harry thought possible the old auror shot a jet of flame at Harry's feet. "THEN MOVE YOUR ASS!" he bellowed as the gout of flame proceeded to chase Harry.

* * *

_The following day _

Ron drifted above the pitch lazily; his mind wandered as his body instinctively guided the broom he straddled. He lost himself in thought.

Yes, thought.

He mentally snorted at the thought of Hermione's expression if she could read his mind just then. He'd be willing to wager the contents of Harry's Gringott's vault that she had no idea about the thoughts that had plagued his mind lately.

No one did.

It frustrated Ron to no end that he couldn't get Hermione out of his head. He had come to care for Susan deeply; she was smart, kind-hearted, and unfailingly loyal. She was fanatical about Quidditch. She tasted fantastic, and her mouth was the softest thing he'd ever felt. She was also one of the prettiest girls in school, and he'd noticed with no small amount of satisfaction the way that many of his male classmates looked on with envy whenever he wandered the halls of Hogwarts with Susan on his arm. What's more, she loved him. She honestly did. He knew she loved him because she had often whispered the words to him: as they soaked together in the prefect's bathroom (or occasionally the Room of Requirement), as they stole kisses beneath the trees or on the shores of Hogwarts lake. She was everything that he'd ever envisioned he might want in a girlfriend, and more than he'd ever really believed that he deserved.

But she didn't have bushy brown hair. She didn't have thin lips that could frown prettily when she was annoyed. She didn't have a lightning quick wit or a sharp tongue. Everything Susan was, she wore on her sleeve. She didn't have any hidden depths or smoldering, long-hidden passions.

Hermione did.

A part of Ron wished he could just remove the part of his brain that desired Hermione. Of course, a completely different part of Ron totally unconnected with his brain wanted to know what Hermione tasted like, too, but that was out of the question. He wished that he could just be content with Susan. He was content, really he was, but still, there always seemed to be a small part of him that wondered how Hermione tasted…wondered if he could be more than content…

The redhead looked down and saw that a number of younger girls sat in the stands, watching his broom ride. With a grin he decided to give them a show. Ron drove his broom in a series of tight loops before darting upwards in a loose spiral. The screams of worry and awe from below swelled his heart a little. He just didn't understand how Harry could hate this part of his fame. Ron was thoroughly enjoying the little acclaim he had garnered due to his excellent performances at the past few Quiddich games. He was glad that Susan wasn't the jealous type, and he wondered how Hermione would feel about his little performance if they were together. The logical part of his brain was busy trying to figure out how he could want to show off to a bunch of random girls he had no intention of dating, while obsessing over two different girls who actually mattered to him. Then he heard the cheers, and the illogical portion of his brain took over, swallowing the logic up and basked in the acclaim.

After ten more minutes of flying Ron brought his broom in for a landing. Throwing his battered old broom over his shoulder he waved to the young Gryffindor girls who'd come out to watch him practice solo.

"Dear God, Gryffindor girls must be desperate." Draco's voice called out from behind him. "I do believe they are actually panting at your presence. I had no idea lions loved the destitute that much." He added in a sinister tone.

Ron whirled around. Draco had come from the opposite locker room at the far end of the field. Pansy and a few other younger hard-eyed Slytherin girls followed behind him.

"Malfoy," Ron started pleasantly, "You're walking your dogs. Good for you." He said while glancing at Pansy and the other women.

The blond Slytherin girl sputtered. "Drakey, do something!" she screamed in a high voice.

Draco had his wand out in a second and shot a stunner at Ron. The redhead sidestepped the shot reflexively. _Thank you, Harry _he said to himself. Without bothering to go for his wand, Ron stepped forward and slammed his fist into Draco's chin. The small Slytherin stumbled backwards. From the corner of his eye he saw Pansy draw her wand. Whipping his broom across his shoulders, he knocked her wand away. A dark colored curse spat into the bushes. Ron hadn't recognized it by sight, but it couldn't have been pleasant.

Draco had recovered by that point and fired a stunner directly at the redhead. Ron frantically raised his broom to deflect the bolt of energy. The desperate ploy worked, but it ripped the shaft of the broom from his hands. Ron snapped up his own wand a moment later and fired a spell that Harry had taught him in the dueling club.

Draco flipped upside down and hung suspended a few feet from the ground. Gravity pulled his robes toward the ground, exposing Draco's underwear and thin pale chest. His wand fell from his grip and with a flick of his wrist Ron sent Draco higher into the air to prevent him from retrieving it.

"Nice undies, 'Drakey'," Ron mocked.

"Weasley, put me down!" Draco shrieked. He flailed his hands, trying to push his robes back towards his legs.

"I don't know… I haven't forgotten what you said to Hermione…" Ron said.

"I have no bloody idea what you're talking about, Weasel. I haven't said anything to Granger." Draco insisted.

"Ron, put him down please."

Ron turned and saw Psyche Malfoy climbing down from the bleachers. Her soft voice carried to his ears despite Draco's bellows.

"Please, Ron." The young girl insisted again softly.

"Bounce him Ron!" one of his Gryffindor cheerleaders shouted. He recognized the voice as that of Romilda Vane, an overly developed, not as pretty as she thought, third year Gryffindor. Wordless cheers from the other Gryffindor girls accompanied her shout.

Ron looked between Psyche, Malfoy, and the Gryffindor girls. What was he doing? It had been necessary to protect himself from Malfoy's attack, but he'd chosen that particular spell expressly to humiliate the arrogant Slytherin. This kind of bullying wasn't him, he was better than that. He looked at Psyche and saw the disappointment written on her face at his actions, as well as the underlying fear, though whether the fear was for himself or for Draco he couldn't say. He glanced that the Gryffindor girls and saw that they, unlike Psyche, seemed to be entertained by his actions.

Suddenly Ron hated himself. Was this how his parents raised him? Was this how his idolized older brothers, Charlie and Bill, would have acted in this position? Would Hermione approved of this? Did he approve of this?

Although the redhead couldn't bring himself to feel any pity for his long-time enemy, he felt a pang of disappointment, as though he had let himself down. Weasley's were better than this, dammit!

With a thought and pass of his wand, the spell dropped and Draco thudded to the ground, leading with his stupid, blonde head, Ron thought with a guilty satisfaction. Psyche ran over to help him but he pushed her away. "You're dead Weasel! You hear me? DEAD!" Draco shrieked, trying in vain to stop his voice from cracking.

Ron decided that the Slytherin's threats might be more impressive if he didn't have a large clump of mud and grass stuck to the side of his head, and turning around, headed for the castle. Draco was still screaming impotently as he walked away. In the end, Ron couldn't help himself, and turning, he yelled back: "Any time you want a piece of me, let me know, but you'd better bring friends. You couldn't beat me even if I forgot my wand. You've got nothing, ferret-boy." As Ron talked, he fingered his wand idly, the threat unmistakable. Apparently deciding that he'd suffered enough humiliation for one day, Draco wisely shut up. "Yeah," Ron muttered shaking his head as he left the field. "You're real dangerous."

* * *

"Acid Pops. Beetle Pops. Blood Pops. Dirt Pops!"

"Miss Granger, yelling at my Gargoyle will not force him to move."

Dumbledore's amused voice caused Hermione to turn around, flushing in embarrassment.

"Professor," she gasped, "I need to talk to you."

"Of course, Miss Granger." Dumbledore walked over to the Gargoyle. "I believe you will find my current password to be Cherry Bombs." He glanced towards the tightly gripped sheet of parchment in her hands and smiled through his thick beard. "You would have hit upon it eventually with a complete list of candies sold in Hogsmead."

The bushy haired Gryffindor turned red and strangled out a nearly inarticulate reply.

The gargoyle slid away, revealing the staircase leading to the headmasters' office. The headmaster bowed. "After you, Miss Granger."

Hermione blushed again and proceeded up the stairs. Dumbledore followed, and reaching his office, settled into the chair behind his massive desk. Hermione stared at the room in wide-eyed amazement. Shelves groaned with objects from around the world, paintings stared down at her in frank curiosity, and the surface of his desk was covered with sparking silver devices that Hermione couldn't even begin to guess the purpose of.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore said with amusement, noting Hermione's fascination.

"No… thank you. Professor." She stuttered. Ruthlessly suppressing her intellectual curiosity, Hermione tore her gaze from the profusion of mysteries surrounding her.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Miss Granger?"

Hermione drummed her fingers against the desk nervously. "Headmaster… Harry… he, ummm… told me and Ron… that is to say, he told us…"

"About what has been going on in his life?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Yes. Are you mad at him?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Of course not, Miss Granger. Harry is free to tell his friends whatever he wishes." He peered over his glasses. "Though I would strongly recommend not sharing that information with your classmates."

Hermione looked affronted. "Of course not." she said indignantly.

"Of course not." Dumbledore soothed. "But the question stands, Miss Granger. What is the problem?"

"I've been doing research in the restricted section about necromancers. I wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help him so that he wouldn't have to… you know." She finished with a blush.

Dumbledore nodded. "I do indeed know. And what did you discover, pray tell?"

"You know what I found." Hermione whispered. "There isn't any way to help him. He's doomed." She was surprised to see his eyes flash with anger.

"No, Miss Granger. That is not what you learned." Dumbledore replied tightly. "You found out that historically, necromancers have all gone dark. You found out that the magic of death has a corrupting influence on the soul. You learned that none but another necromancer can hope to train one. You discovered that there are fragments of a prophecy that speak of a white necromancer, but there is no evidence that Harry has anything to do with the prophecy. Does that sound familiar?"

"But then how can there be hope?" Hermione asked tearfully. "I've spent months poring over books, and everything I could find in the restricted section and—"

"There is more to magic than what can be learned from books, Miss Granger." Dumbledore chided. "You have a fine mind, and great technical skill at everything we teach here at Hogwarts, but you will never be as great as you could be so long as you restrict yourself to the knowledge found in books. I have been very pleased to see your growing friendship with Miss Lovegood. I daresay that you two will learn a great deal from each other." He smiled serenely. "Though I would have hoped you might have chosen a slightly less… illegal project for your first collaborative effort."

"How do you know about what Luna and I…" Hermione shook her head. "Never mind, it doesn't matter now. If no one knows any other way, what can we do for Harry?"

"I believe that vampire magic is a close enough analog to Harry's necromantic powers that he can be trained by them in their use. I have been in talks with several renegade vampires I know outside of the traditional power structure who I believe may be able to assist him with this training." Weary lines crisscrossed Dumbledore's face, and Hermione wondered when the last time was that the ancient wizard had gotten a good night's sleep. "That will not solve the problem of Harry's degeneration, but it will slow it down and give us the chance to find a more permanent solution."

"Do you really think it will work, Headmaster? Is there a permanent solution for Harry?"

"I believe so. With a little faith and hope, I do indeed believe so." Dumbledore stood up and starting toward the door, a sure sign to Hermione that her talk with the teacher was over. He put a hand on her shoulder companionably. "Miss Granger, I cannot emphasize how important it is that you do not reveal to Harry how bleak his prospects seem. If he is to have any chance at all, he must believe he has one."

Hermione frowned, but nodded.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger." Dumbledore said gently. "We are speaking of Harry Potter. Trust in his ability to beat the odds, as he has done since he was one year old."

"Headmaster…" Hermione said hesitantly. "If you know what Luna and I are trying, why haven't you tried to stop us?"

"This is a school Miss Granger, and you are not studying the dark arts. Regardless of what the Ministry says, they are not the arbiters of what is proper to learn. And neither am I." The old teacher said.

He smiled briefly a second later. "Besides, I wish to know if you will succed."

* * *

_A few days later_

Harry dodged the stunners by zigzagging between them. Moody raised his eyebrow at the casual display of dexterity, but waved his wand, casting a silent summoning charm as he tried to catch Harry off-balance and separate him from his wand.

Harry countered with a burst of magic that neutralized the spell, and then launched a jet of blue light that encased Moody's wooden leg in ice. The auror laughed out loud at Harry's cheek, then conjured a wave of frost that washed over Harry and left the boy wizard chilled to the bone. Harry dropped to the ground, too cold to move.

The old auror stumped over and warmed Harry with a complex heating charm. "Ye did good lad. Not bad for a wet behind the ears kid." He said with a grotesque smile. "While I wouldn't throw you up against a Death Eater quite yet, I think you have this school tournament sewn up."

Harry sat up. "Thanks," he said, shivering, the remnants of the chilling frost still in his limbs. "C-C-Could you not use that spell on me ever again?" he added with a stutter.

Moody clamped a leathery hand against Harry's shoulder. "Toughen up, lad. It's just a little ice." He said, unknowingly echoing Harry's own words to Neville just a few days prior.

Moody left fifteen minutes later, after relating Harry's many mistakes in excruciating detail. Although Harry admitted that he was improving after just a few one-on-one sessions with the retired auror, he didn't always enjoy the manner in which the grizzled veteran imparted his lessons. The bone chilling cold still with him, Harry closed his eyes and pictured a steam room and Jacuzzi, like the one from several houses down on Privet Drive. Warmth surrounded him, slowly leeching the cold from his bones.

_Rooms of Requirement are awesome_

"'Arry?"

_I take that back_

Harry slowly opened his eyes. Fleur stood before him, a concerned look on her face.

Blaise stood next to her.

_I am far too tired for this_

"Should I run now, or later?" Harry asked.

Blaise raised her eyebrow. "We don't want you to run at all, Potter."

"I'll take that as a now. If you'll both excuse me?" Harry started toward the door.

"Why are you being like this 'Arry? I 'ave not seen you in weeks because of your avoidance." Fleur asked in a hurt tone.

"You're the one who left me, remember Fleur?" Harry shot back bitterly, although a small part of him knew he was being unfair.

"You surprised me. What was I supposed to do?" she answered. "You 'ave been lying to me, 'Arry, about Blaise. You 'urt me deeply."

Harry shifted his glare to the half vampire, but addressed his ex-girlfriend. "So you decided to talk to her. Joy of joys."

"I needed to know where she stood on zings." Fleur said in a hurt tone. "I needed to know what she felt… and if 'er familee could actually help you."

"What did you find out?" Harry asked in a bitter, but curious voice.

"I zink you should do it." Fleur said, her mouth oddly twisted as she spoke. "I zink you need more zen what I can offer you."

Harry stepped forward in a sudden rage. "So you got together with her and decided. Goodie for both of you. Guess that settles it. You win the Harry sweepstakes, Blaise Better buy a black dress or whatever Vampires get married in." He sneered.

"Listen to you, Harry," Blaise said insistently. "This isn't you. It's him. It's that thing inside you. You need what my father can provide."

"No, you need what I can provide." Harry said angry. "You need the safety of having a blood donor husband who isn't a pureblood vampire looking to dominate his pretty half-blood wife."

"You think I'm pretty?" Blaise asked, smiling.

"So not the point." Harry hissed. "The two of you don't get to decide who gets me. You don't get to decide what is better for me."

"You zink zis iz what I want." Fleur said angrily. "I care for you, 'Arry."

Harry's face softened slightly. "I love you Fleur. I really do. But you don't get to tell me what to do just because of that." He pushed past both of the young women to leave. This time they did nothing to stop him.

"That could have gone better." Blaise said dryly, although her blue eyes had certain sheen about them.

"Yes, zat could 'ave gone much better," Fleur agreed in a broken tone.

* * *

_Several weeks later_

_Early December_

Professor McGonagall wore a smile on her face.

Harry found his head of house's amusement more than slightly disconcerting. He and the other Fifth-Year Gryffindors and Slytherins sat at their desks while their transfiguration professor paced back and forth, showing more energy than she had in quite a while. Luna Lovegood, a guest to the class was sitting in rapt, wide-eyed attention. A stack of small red clay bricks sat in a pyramid shape on her desk.

"As I promised you at the beginning of the year, today we are going to begin working toward the Animagus transformation." With a wave of her wand, the bricks moved from her desk, each one landing softly before an assembled student. Harry picked his brick up. It was made out of soft clay that molded around his fingers. "I cannot promise that all of you will have the potential. In fact, most wizards do not." Professor McGonagall continued. "And of those of you who do possess an Animagus form, many will be unable to complete the transformation due to the raw magical potential required. Those with the ability will work with Professor Snape to complete the Animagus potion, which will allow the imbiber to change his shape to that of his or her chosen animal form."

Hermione's hand shot into the air. "Professor, I don't understand why wizards can only have one Animagus form, and the published literature is particularly vague on that point. Is the answer known?"

"There are a number of theories, Miss Granger, but as you've noticed, no concrete answers. The most commonly held belief is that a wizard may only have one animal archetype within him. That animal represents a piece of the wizard's spirit that normally lies dormant. The magic and potion activate that potential." Professor McGonagall answered. "But that is neither here nor there. The potion is highly toxic. Even if a wizard had a second or third form within him they would not survive ingesting the potion more than once."

Hermione pursed her lips but did not say anything else. "The spell is called _Revelo Protean._ The wand movement is like so." And Professor McGonagall slowly turned her wrist and flicked the wand in an exaggerated counterclockwise motion. "Everyone try it a few times. The wand movement followed by the incantation. Take care to ensure that everything is perfect."

Harry copied the movements and said the word slowly, trying to get each syllable correct. Ron sat beside him, listening patiently to Hermione as she showed him what he was doing wrong. He finally got the flick down perfectly, and when their house head walked by she awarded them five points each for their swift mastery of the spell. Professor McGonagall circled the classroom several times making sure that everyone could cast the spell.

"Very good, everyone." She said. "Excellent wand forms. Look at the primal clay in front of you. This time when you cast the spell touch the clay with the end of your wand after you complete the twist. The clay will turn into a perfect miniature replica of your animal. If you have no form the clay will twist into a statue of yourself. Sometimes it will be a statue of what you look like now, but sometimes the clay will appear as you once did when you were younger or what you might look like in the future. It is a fascinating side effect of the spell but one that ultimately has little practical use."

Harry stared the red clay in front of him. A small knot twisted in his stomach. He wondered if he would share an Animagus form with his father. He also imagined that one like Sirius would be interesting; as he wasn't a rat he wouldn't care what form he had. He looked around the classroom and was amazed to see that no one had cast the spell yet. It was as though the entire class was too scared to be the first to reveal their form. Finally, Hermione moved.

"_Revelo Protean_!" With a swift and sure hand Hermione tapped the side of the clay brick. The clay twists and ran like water, flowing upwards to form a cylindrical shape that began a slow collapse inward. Hermione watched in rapt attention as the flowing earth gradually took on a bestial shape.

It was a hunched, stocky creature with disproportionately long arms and splayed feet. It was bipedal, with gray-white fur covering the entirely of its body aside from its expressive red face, feet, and hands. A short tail curled around the base of the creature.

"A snow monkey!" Hermione uttered in confusion. "I'm a snow monkey?"

"I don't know Granger," Draco laughed, "I think it suits you."

Ron growled at the remark, but a warning look from his professor caused him to release the grip he had on his wand. Angry, he reluctantly went back to studying his brick.

Hermione's actions broke the tension in the classroom, and soon every student was casting the spell on their primordial clay. Harry looked around the room to see what forms his classmates had. To him, it appeared that most of the class's bricks assumed the humanoid shape of someone who didn't possess an Animagus form. Here and there though, there were some surprises. Neville was showing off his lion statuette to his girlfriend, Lavender, and she oohed over it while he turned over the small hummingbird figurine that Lavender had given to him. Parvati laughed in glee at her butterfly form as Crabbe and Goyle stared at each other in dull eyed amazement over their matching Sloth carvings. Pansy looked at the praying mantis in front of her with narrow eyes, seemingly unable to decide whether or not she liked her would-be form. Draco hid his statue beneath his robes and refused to show it to anybody. Harry glanced over at Blaise and she smiled gently, holding up a figurine of a particularly toothy looking bat. He laughed, his amusement temporarily winning out over the anger he still felt for her. "I wonder what Malfoy's figure is?" Harry muttered to himself.

"It's a weasel." Luna answered in a sing-song voice. "I saw it before he hid it away." The odd looking girl walked up to the trio, pushing an oversized beret out of her eyes. An enormous peacock feather stuck straight up from the center of her hat.

"What is yours, Luna?" Hermione asked eagerly. "Are you a squirrel?"

Luna shook her head and smiled serenely. "I appear to not have a form." She opened up her hand to reveal the statuette of a pretty young woman—Luna at age twenty five or so, Harry guessed. She would evidently grow into be a strikingly beautiful woman.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione murmured. "Are you very upset?"

Luna's eyes grew larger and she let out a tinkling laugh. "When I get older, I am going to look like my mother." She said with smile that radiated true contentment. "I think daddy will like that very much." Having said that, she wandered off again.

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall as she approached them. "Why have you not yet followed my instructions?"

Both boys blushed. "Sorry professor," Ron muttered. He muttered the spell and struck the primal clay in front of him.

Harry didn't really know what to expect, although he would never have guessed in a million years that Ron would possess the form that the spell revealed.

The clay swirled and twisted, seeming to draw extra mass from somewhere. Whatever it was dwarfed even Neville's lion. Finally, a creature took shape from the chaos: the form was four legged and curled in on itself, a large reddish-gold snout touching a tapered tail. The creature's eyes were closed, as though enjoying a long slumber, and its four claws were curled as well; although the carving showed enough of the claws to show that they were wickedly sharp. Sharp spine spikes traced down a thick but serpentine neck, narrowing towards the tip of its tail. Scales of red-gold gave the creature a pebbly, jewel-like appearance. But the most remarkable thing of all was the pair of leathery wings that lay furrowed against the creatures back.

"A dragon! Extraordinary!" Professor McGonagall whispered in awe. "In all my years… Mr. Weasley," she said, directing her comment to the stunned redhead, "I am most impressed. There are only a handful of wizards in history that have possessed a dragon Animagus form. I don't recognize the breed, which leads me to believe that your form is not just a dragon, but a form unique to yourself. We will need to confirm with Professor Hagrid, or perhaps your brother, of course… Regardless, there are few wizards indeed who have ever had a unique form." She smiled and patted Ron on the back. "I look forward to aiding you with your transformation."

Professor McGonagall wasn't the only one impressed with Ron's form. Nearly every student in the class craned their head in an effort to see the dragon statue. Parvati stared at Ron in amazement, and more than a little lust. More disturbing to Harry was that bullish Millicent Bulstrode was giving Ron a similar look. Harry suppressed a shudder. He glanced up to see his transfiguration teacher giving him a hard look. Raising his wand, Harry quickly performed the spell.

He watched in amazement as his brick took on the most unusual form he had ever seen. It was a coiled cobra, its' head rising above the coils as though prepared to strike, its wide, flaring hood extended. More amazing still was that the tail of the cobra was barbed, like scorpion stinger and dark, feathered wings with silver highlights were spread as though ready to take flight. The serpentine body was as black as pitch, with silver diamond bands wrapping around the full length. The glittering eyes of the cobra were as green as Harry's own. Silver zigzags, decorated the back of the wide hood of cobra.

"What in Merlin's name is that?" Ron whispered. He looked at Harry in horror.

Harry pushed that statue away with a single finger, unwilling to touch it with more digits than necessary. He looked up at his teacher questioningly. Professor McGonagall stared at the statue with thin lips.

"Mr. Potter, I believe we need to see the headmaster."

* * *

"It's an African Couatl." Dumbledore said grimly, as he turned the statue over in his hand. Professor McGonagall and Hagrid both nodded bleakly, since the Headmaster had merely confirmed what they already knew.

"What's an African Couatl?" Harry asked, confused. Sure, it was a bizarre monster, but he didn't understand what the fuss was about. A form was a form. That was it.

"It's a dark creature 'arry," Hagrid volunteered at last. "Smart beasts they are, with all sort o' dark powers and w'at not. It's said they can hypnotize with their eyes, and perform all sorts a black charm and things. Got real strong magic senses, an some say they can see inna the soul of people and twist 'em up."

"But that's the real thing." Harry protested. "I wouldn't be that way."

Dumbledore stared at Harry sympathetically. "Harry, when a wizard assumes an Animagus form, he invites part of that creature into his soul. Their instincts meld and become tightly intertwined. Sometimes those changes are minor, other times they can be quite severe. In the case of magical beasts the changes are always quite profound. I dare say that Mr. Weasley will be a very different man if he is ever able to truly assume his draconic shape."

"I don't understand Headmaster. You always said it was a person's choices, what they were on the inside, which dictated who they were, and not anything else." Harry asked cautiously, mindful of the audience he had.

Dumbledore smiled, seemingly truly pleased at Harry's question. "Too right you are, Harry, my boy. It is a person's choices. We all have choices to make in our life, one of which is to explore, if able, our Animagus form. True, it can change us in ways we did not expect, but the initial choice was still ours. The dark arts work in much the same way. A wizard who explores the nature of black magic risks altering their mind and body in ways which leave them dependant on dark magic for continued survival, but the choice to explore that avenue was theirs in the beginning, even if some twists and turns along the path are dictated by fate or another agency. It is a balance that has left better wizard philosophers than you or I perplexed."

"What I don't understand is how Harry has this creature as his form." Professor McGonagall interjected. "There isn't anything like this beast inside the boy. I would lay a hundred galleons on that fact."

"Minerva, Hagrid, may I speak to Harry alone?" Dumbledore asked calmly. Both teachers nodded and touched Harry's shoulder sympathetically. After they left, Dumbledore turned back to Harry. "You know where this form comes from, don't you Harry?"

"Voldemort."

"Indeed. Although it is not commonly known, the African Couatl is Voldemort's Animagus form. I have often wondered which came first, the darkness within or the darkness of the form corrupting him." Dumbledore shook his head, "But that is neither here nor there. I believe that when you absorbed some of his powers, his Animagus form was placed in you, essentially overwriting whatever your form should have been."

Harry wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. It was just another thing that Voldemort had taken from him. Another injustice to lay at his feet. "Is… is there any way to know…"

"What form you should have?" Dumbledore guessed.

Harry looked down. "Yeah."

"I am afraid not, Harry." Dumbledore answered softly. "And there is further bad news. I cannot allow you to finish the Animagus Transformation. It is simply too dangerous to allow that creature a purchase in your psyche."

Harry's stomach sank. Part of him had expected the news, but still, he had held out a small flicker of hope that Dumbledore would be able to help him. He slouched low in his seat, fighting back the black anger and jealousy when he thought about his other friends being able to complete the transformation. He stood up suddenly, his desire to leave this room overwhelming.

"I'm sorry, Harry." The old headmaster said.

Harry fought down the urge to yell at the man. Instead he bit out, "So am I," and left.

* * *

please read and review again.


	18. Control

Harry Potter and the Litany of Blood Ch18

By Phoenixgod2000

New Casting: Ron Weasley…Jon Foster (i.e. the redheaded lead from Stay Alive)

Authors note: Well, look what showed up! Another part to Litany of Blood. I wished I could have gotten this part out sooner but I was afflicted with terrible writers block. I knew what I wanted and I knew how to get there but nothing I wrote would come out right. To be honest I am still not perfectly happy but I am happy enough that I am willing to put it out there for everyone to see. I really want to thank my beta Sean who helped me out with my terrible writers block. He helped to crystallize my thoughts and desires into something worth reading. The next chapter I see a lot more clearly and I am hoping that there won't be any more delays of this magnitude for any of the rest of the chapters.

_One week before the Yule Ball_

_Paris, France_

The black dog slunk down the alley. Padding past trash, the smell of urine and rotting food filled his sensitive nose as he made his way towards the rear door of la Mort de bébé. The expensive nightclub catered to wealthy muggles and wealthy wizards in equal measure. Between its four walls girls, drugs, and sex could all be had for a ridiculous cost. It was a little piece of Sodom and Gomorrah, right in the center of Paris. Assuming a comfortable position behind a large metal trash bin, he waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

The door creaked open and a tall youth with prominent cheekbones and wavy, shoulder length hair the color of yellowed bone snuck out. He wore dark slacks and a light shirt, with a tie in Slytherin green. Looking behind himself nervously, he began walking down the alley with long, distance-eating strides. He was so busy watching his back he didn't notice the big black dog that attacked from the front.

The huge grim bore him to the ground and when the youth pulled a wand from his pocket the dog ripped it from his grip and tossed it aside with a shake of his jowls. The dog's form blurred for a second and the young wizard found Sirius Black holding him down with a frighteningly strong grip.

"Only a bloody Malfoy would patronize a club called Infant Death." The Ex-convict said disgustedly. "Francois Malfoy," he continued with a smile that came nowhere near to reaching his eyes. "There is a man who would like to talk to you, and I'm going to take you to him."

"Voldemort just tried to break into the French Ministries Department of Mysteries. Why?" Alastor Moody spat.

The old auror was in a dimly lit room, with Francois Malfoy with Sirius Black as his only company. The sole light source was a bare bulb burning dimly overhead. His roving magical eye spun in its socket while the grizzled veteran stumped back and forth before the bound wizard. The charmed ropes prevented François from apparating away.

"I do not know." The voice of the wizard was thin and reedy. His formerly immaculate hair was mussed and his aristocratic features looked worn and swollen.

Moody tapped him on the cheek with his wand. "I cannot abide prettiness, boy," he whispered. "On account of my own face. Brings up bad memories, you see. Tell me what I want to know and maybe I won't have to ruin those girlish features of yours."

"You won't do that." Draco's French cousin said defiantly. "You can't. You are an auror; you don't do things like that."

"But I'm Sirius Black." The Marauder whispered as he stepped from the shadows. "I'm not an auror and I don't give a snake's ass about what happens to a Malfoy. Any Malfoy. The world'll be a cleaner place the day you lot finally inbreed yourselves into sterility. Besides, I spent thirteen years in Azkaban with Bellatrix LeStrange as my next door cellmate."

Francois blanched. "I see you're familiar with my esteemed cousin." Sirius said with a cold smile. "But all you know about her is her reputation. Trust me, that does not do my lovely cousin justice. The stories won't tell you about how she killed her own husband with her teeth, after he wouldn't stop screaming. They don't mention how it sounded, the crunch of her teeth against his bones as she sucked the marrow from them to stave off hunger. How she used his finger bones, sharpened into points, to carve power runes onto her skin. The sound of her laugh as she cut herself. You can't hear those things without being changed."

The rawboned wizard walked over the Francois and knelt down so that they were eye-level with each other. A wave of his wand produced a silver-handled knife which Sirius dragged along the wizard's cheek, drawing a fine red line. "So you're sadly mistaken if you think I haven't the stomach to carve your face into ribbons if you don't start talking."

"L-L-Listen," the wizard stuttered. "I only know that he was after a pair of journals in the archives. I supplied the paperwork to get past the wards on the upper levels. That's all. I swear."

Sirius and Moody exchanged glances. "Are you in contact with anyone else in the death eater camp?" Moody asked.

Francois nodded. "I've been in touch with another British death eater. A strange fat man with a silver hand. He has come to Paris on several occasions to work with different cells."

This time Sirius was the one to go pale. His hand tightened around his wand and he stepped forward aggressively. "A silver hand… are you certain?"

"How often do you see wizards with silver-hands?" Francois answered snottily, a trace of his old arrogance coming back.

Sirius rubbed his hands in glee. "I suddenly know what I'm getting Harry for Christmas."

"Trussed up Holiday Ham?"

"Oh no." Sirius said with a smile. "I'm thinking more along the lines of Christmas Rat."

_Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_One week before the Yule Ball_

"Pass the gloom weed extract." Blaise ordered. Harry nodded silently and passed the bottle of inky black liquid to his potions partner.

The two of them were huddled over a brewing potion in the back of Snape's classroom. Professor Snape had them working on the Animagus potion, as their class was responsible for brewing enough doses for all of the potential Animagi in the upper three classes who had taken the test. A not insignificant portion of Harry suspected that Snape had him working on the potion as some kind of petty punishment for what happened between them.

"Why do we use the gloom weed, Harry?" Blaise asked.

Harry snorted. She was forever trying to teach him something. He rejected her flatly and she still wanted him to earn an O for the class. "Gloom Weed is a poison—a particular kind of sleeping poison. A small amount will put the human side of a wizard to sleep long enough to make the first transformation, which is crucial."

"Good." Blaise sounded satisfied. She stirred the potion. "I can't wait to drink this after the holidays. Unlike True Vampires, I can't access my form without the potion."

Harry looked away. It rankled him deeply that he wasn't allowed to attempt the transformation. He looked over at the chime in the corner, noting with relief that it was nearly time for the class to end. He was glad. Harry had no desire to stay in the class any longer, and it was almost physically painful for him to be near Blaise. It wasn't her fault… precisely. She reminded him of everything that was wrong with his life, and what he dearly wished was to forget.

The bell rang and Harry quickly packed up his ingredients, slipping out of the class ahead of Ron and Hermione.

"Potter, wait." Blaise called out. She hurriedly grabbed her books and chased after him, catching up to him in the hallway outside the classroom.

Harry didn't turn around. "I have to go, Blaise. Charms waits for no man."

"Not even the great, martyring Boy Who Lived?" Derision filled her voice.

Harry whirled around. "SHUT UP, BLAISE!" he bellowed.

"Why the hell should I? Because I can see that people besides you are suffering? Because Fleur made a choice and it wasn't the one you wanted. Because you are going to keep getting worse and worse, until no one wants to be around you anymore and you've driven away anyone that might, just bloody well might, care about you?" Blaise spat the words out and tossed her mane of black hair.

Harry had his wand out in a second. "Leave it alone, Blaise. Don't push me." He growled.

"Don't worry, I won't." she sneered. "I'm through chasing you. Go to hell, Harry. I won't join you there."

Blaise turned and vanished quickly into a shadowed hallway, leaving Harry standing alone with every Gryffindor and most the Slytherins eyeing him warily.

"Ten points, Mr. Potter." Snape's silky whisper sounded almost joyous. The sallow skinned teacher had crept up behind him while he was distracted. "Never threaten a member of my House in my presence."

_France_

"We have a problem." Alastor Moody announced.

"Which one would that be?" Sirius muttered.

The mismatched pair lurked in a dingy room that they had found in a low end hostel off the main drag of _Le chemin de Soleil, _the French equivalent of Digon Alley. A pair of worn beds with threadbare sheets dominated the low quality room. Of course, both men had spent time in far worse places so neither complained about the accommodations.

"I went and surveyed the area little _mal foi_ helped Pettigrew break into. I think I know which journals Voldemort is after." Moody said glumly.

"That good, huh?"

"It's the journal and spell book of Fleur De Sang."

"Lady Bloodflower? The one who disappeared after she turned on Grindlewald?" Sirius asked. She had been something of a secret hero to Sirius in his younger years, the mysterious dark lady who had defied her history, turning against the second greatest dark lord the century.

She appeared in France shortly before the muggle World War, and unlike other masters of darkness, the woman in red cared little for temporal power. Instead, she had sought the upper mysteries of magic—mysteries that she had proven willing to bathe in blood for. She and a small coven of devoted followers destroyed hundreds of lives in very little time. The rumors of the power she sought were all the usual suspects—unlimited power, immortality, ultimate wisdom, mastery over life and death.

What was unusual about her story was that after Grindlewald appeared, using demons and dark creatures as well as muggle forces to forge his empire, this dark lady had joined the side of light, turning her awesome dark power against her rival dark lord. While most attributed her turn to a simple version of the enemy of my enemy, Sirius had heard from several wizards who had fought in the underground that she had undergone a genuine change of heart during the war.

After Grindlewald was defeated, Fleur De Sang, the Lady Bloodflower appeared at the Paris Ministry of Magic and begged for forgiveness from the people there. When Aurors appeared to take her into custody she fought them off in a blaze of power and disappeared. Years later, her corpse washed ashore in a filthy river and that was that. Her journals were on her body, but no one could read them since they had been scrambled by some kind of code nobody had been able to make heads or tails of. The secrets of her journals were one of the great unsolved mysteries of the modern Wizarding world, although interest in them had faded over time.

"We have to get a look at those journals." Sirius said slowly.

_Even less time before the Yule Ball_

Harry sat in the darkness, brooding. His mind turned over the words Blaise had flung in his face. All he could see was Fleur rejecting him… and yet another person telling what was best for him.

But was that fair? To her? To him? To Blaise?

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, and he couldn't be sure. Lately he'd such a hard time sorting his own feelings from the perversions Voldemort had left behind, and it seemed like every thing that went wrong in his life sent him into a towering rage. Maybe what he needed was someone he trusted to help him make these decisions.

"Is everything alright, Harry?"

The dulcet tones of Ginny Weasley jolted Harry from his reverie. "Hey Gin," he said without turning around. "You're up late."

"So are you."

Ginny slid around to face Harry and smiled at him. He noticed that she looked different, somehow. "Have you done something different with your hair?" he asked.

Ginny fingered a strand. "I darkened it," she said with a secretive smile. "I hate how my family's red hair is so orange."

"It looks good on you." Harry looked away after speaking, sinking back into his comfortable silence.

Ginny sat down next to him. "What's wrong," she asked softly. "You've been so distant lately, and I heard about your fight with that Blaise girl from some of the younger students."

"Just stuff."

Ginny snuggled closer to Harry. "Tell me, Harry. You know you can tell me anything."

A strange scent filled Harry's nose. It was warm and spicy, but sweet. Unconsciously, he leaned closer to Ginny's hair and inhaled slightly. It felt strangely sexual for the Boy Who Lived as their eyes met. "I haven't really told you what's been happening, have I?" he breathed out softly.

The redhead smiled sadly. "Not really. I guess I'm just not as good a friend as Ron and Hermione are." Absently she fingered one of the flyaway strands of hair at the base of Harry's neck.

Worry stabbed in Harry's chest. For some reason the idea that Ginny thought he didn't trust her sent a wave of panic through him. So he did the only thing he could think of – he told her everything. Everything that had happened to him, from Fleur to Voldemort's power inside him to the vampires and Blaise. All of it.

When he was done, Ginny shook her head in amazement. "You are so brave, Harry." Her mouth was close, so close to his ear that he could feel her hot breath on his neck and the flick of her tongue against his earlobe. "To deal with all of that, not knowing who to trust, who really has your best interests at heart?" she shook her head. "You are even more amazing than I thought. That you would even give that girl a chance, even talk to her, knowing what her father wants, shows what a great person you are."

Harry stared at Ginny. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth before quickly closing it again. Then in an explosion of movement Harry stood up and drew his wand.

"_Accio_ Invisibility cloak."

A silver blur whistled down the stairs a moment later and settled in Harry's hand. The Boy Who Lived flashed a quick grin at Ginny. "Thanks Gin, you just put something important into perspective for me." He leaned over, giving her a peck on the cheek before draping the silver cloak over his shoulders in a dramatic gesture and disappearing from her sight.

A moment later the Gryffindor common room portal opened as an invisible boy slipped through it. Ginny put her hand to her cheek where Harry had kissed her.

"You're… welcome?"

_Paris, France_

_Ministry of Magic, Department of Mysteries_

The French Department of Mysteries was located beneath an ancient Catholic rectory that had been warded from muggles for so long that the ordinary people of Paris had long since forgotten it had ever existed. Two Wizarding figures darted into it from off of the street.

The old Auror gave the perky blond desk witch a grotesque smile. "Alastor Moody and this is my Trainee, Nymphadora Tonks. We're here to see the De Sang Diaries."

The girl behind the desk squealed. "Of course I know Tonks! After the way she stopped that awful death eater from breaking in here a few months ago, how could I not know who she was?" She kissed the pink haired officer on the cheek. "How is that man of yours, Percy wasn't it?"

Tonks heart shaped face broke into an uneasy smile. "He's… fine?"

"We simply have to get coffee when you're done here. I know this little café where we can catch up."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Enough with the small talk, girls." Moody interjected in an amused tone. "Nymphadora, we have work to do." he emphasized.

"Of course. Right this way." The young witch led them down a hallway to a pure white room. "The journals are in here," she said. "I don't know how you have the clearance to look at them, though. Half of our unspeakables haven't ever even seen them."

Moody glanced at the girl with his good eye while his animated one stared at a pair of books lying on the bare wooden table that dominated the center of the room. They were smooth butter-colored leather with yellowing pages with a silken book mark poking from the top of each journal. "I've done enough favors for the French ministry to warrant special… consideration," he growled.

She shrugged. "Whatever. Just remember that you can't duplicate the books or take them out the room. The wards here are very strong and I would hate for you to set them off." She kissed Tonks on the cheek. "Floo me later so we can talk."

The secretary left the room and closed the door behind her. Moody turned to his companion and tapped his eye. "Take another drink, Sirius. I don't want you changing back while we're here."

Sirius Black grimaced as he took a long pull from his polyjuice potion in a flask. "Did I really have to be a woman?"

_Hogwarts_

_The Room of Requirement_

Blaise Zabini walked cautiously into the room. The ring on her finger had pulsed and somehow she knew that Harry had wanted to talk with her. She had quietly left her bed in the Slytherin Dormitories and come here, to the room where Harry was helping train some of the younger students with their dueling skills.

Her pulse quickened. She couldn't help but wonder why he was calling her here tonight. Maybe their little shouting match had done some good for the thick-headed Gryffindor, or maybe he wanted to continue yelling at her.

The slim Slytherin frowned as she looked around. She couldn't see him anywhere, but her sensitive nose detected his scent everywhere around her.

"I'd hoped you'd be here Blaise."

Harry's head appeared from thin air and soon after the rest of him did as well. A shimmering cloak was draped over his arm. He smiled slightly at her surprise. She admitted to herself that he was looking very good. Whatever else his powers were currently doing to his body, they were doing a bang-up job at transforming him into hunk of the first magnitude.

"I'm here, Potter. What's this about?" She said in her coldest tone. It wouldn't do to make him think that he was back in her good graces. He blushed slightly at her tone, she noticed with an internal grin.

"I've been thinking…" he started.

"I hope you didn't hurt yourself." she interjected spitefully.

He flinched. "I deserve that," he admitted. "Look Blaise, can we be honest for a minute? This thing with us… I feel like we were dancing around each other forever, and I tried to avoid dealing with it. I didn't want to deal with it, because I knew that you wanted something from me and everybody was pushing me toward you. I think that maybe I liked being able to hold that over you, knowing that for a change I had control over you. But that's not really me, that's Him, and I don't want to be like Him. The truth is that part of me, a larger part that I ever wanted to admit to myself, thinks that what you want wouldn't be an awful idea. But I held off. Maybe it was to spite Dumbledore and your father, but I haven't been fair to you."

Blaise looked down. "I understood why you did it, why you acted that way. You weren't raised with the knowledge that arranged marriage was your only option, there's no way you could have been prepared for it. And, you are a stubborn, obstinate Gryffindor," she said with a small smile, "and I'm starting to understand how much the idea of someone else dictating your life hurts you."

Harry nodded. "That's part of it. I just hate how people are always trying to make decisions for me. I hate that people know things about my mother and father that they won't tell me. It just seems like everywhere I turn, there's some secret about my life that someone else knows. But that's not all of it. Part of it is Voldemort… these powers… his feelings… Sometimes I do things, or say things, and it's because of him. I get so angry and these dark feelings and powers well up inside of me, and I just want to let them out. To hurt people with them. Sometimes I react to things, but it's not how I would say them and then…" Harry met her blue-eyed gaze. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Or I do, but I don't know how to make it better. All my life… it's just, I feel like I can't trust my instincts anymore, I can't even trust myself to do the right thing, and it's killing me. What I've been doing isn't working and I feel so alone... I need somebody I can trust completely, someone to help me figure out what I'm going to do because right now I feel like I can't trust myself to decide."

Harry took a step forward. "But I do know one thing that is all mine, that I know doesn't come from him. I give people chances. Voldemort doesn't. I want to give you the chance to be the one I trust to help me. So I am asking you something I know comes from me because it would never come from him: Will you go to the Yule Ball with me? Will you give me the chance to get to know you, to see if this thing between us will work?" he asked hopefully.

Blaise smiled and stroked his face. "No." she whispered softly. The half vampire lowered her hands. "No," she said again more insistently. "I won't… go to the Yule Ball with you." Looking up at Harry's confused expression, she continued. "Listen, Harry. I want to be that person for you, and I still want to be the one marrying you, but you're right. It's not really up to me, is it? I don't have any control at all… but there is one thing I can control, and that's my dignity. No matter what happens I refuse to be a silly, stupid girl; one of those pathetic creatures who bends over backwards for a man only to be rejected, to be kicked and then picked back up when it's convenient. No matter what happens, I'm better than that." Blaise smiled. "But I still want to know if we can work this out, so I'll tell you what: we both go stag to the Yule Ball, I'll save you a dance and then maybe we see what happens after that."

Harry nodded. "Okay," he said softly, "I'll do that."

_Paris, France_

"Do you see anything with your eye?" Sirius asked while he keeping watch on the door. "Encryption wards, curses, anything that could tell us why Voldemort wants these damned books?"

"No," Moody growled. "Nothing."

Sirius ran his fingers through his currently short pink hair. "I don't know why you even brought us here, Moody. If these people haven't cracked the code in five decades, why are we trying?"

The old auror shrugged. "You never know what they could have missed – they are French after all. Besides, we aren't here to decode them. There are better minds for that in the order. We're going to steal them, and replace them with these." Alastor reached into a bag at his belt and drew out a pair of identical journals. "I know a pureblooded art forger." He said by way of explanation. "Makes a lot of money in the muggle world."

"Uhh… what about the wards?" Sirius asked. "We can't exactly walk out of here with these."

"Yes, we can." From the same bag, Moody pulled out a small translucent globe. Thin blue mist spun around like a small tornado in the center. Holding it in the palm of his hand he spoke softly. "Sirius my boy, most governments have security that looks like an egg: hard and crunchy on the outside, soft and gooey in the middle. Like this place: we had to pass through gates, guards, and wards to get inside, but once they figured that we had permission to be here they pretty much left us alone. All their security is designed to keep people out, without a thought to what the people do once they get in. For example, nobody searched our possessions, which allowed me to bring this in." he lifted the orb to eye level. "This little fellow has enough magic to muffle the detection wards in this room for about a minute after it's shattered. This leaves us just about enough time to switch out our copies for the originals."

Sirius shook his head. "Are you kidding me?" he said incredulously. "It's that easy to steal from the French ministry? Please tell me that our ministry is better guarded."

Moody just shook his head with a rare grin. "Boy, the stories I could tell you…"

_Hogwarts_

_A few days before the Yule Ball_

Ron twirled a strand of his girlfriend's hair around his finger. He was sitting by the lake staring out across the sparkling water, Susan's head pillowed in his lap as she hummed softly to herself, the pair of them making the most of the rare warm winter day.

"I can't believe you've got a dragon Animagus form," the blond said from her perch in his lap. "That is so rare. I had Auntie Amelia look it up in the archives. There have only been three known dragon Animagus', like, ever. Three! And do you know who they were? Bornalis Malfoy the Dragon-Binder, Cassiopeia the Silver Wyrm, and Shen Wei, the Star Dancer. Three legends." she emphasized.

Susan opened her liquid blue eyes and grinned at him. "If you can complete the transformation, you'll be one of the most sought after wizards in the world. You could write your own ticket, Ron."

Ron frowned. "That would be nice, but I dunno. I was talking to Professor McGonagall and she told me that the transformation would be really hard and it's probably going to hurt a lot. It's supposed to take a tremendous amount of energy the first few times. She said something about converting energy to create all that extra mass, but she was using Arithmancy and it was over my head. There's no guarantee that I can even make the transformation."

Susan smiled beatifically. "Of course you can. I have faith in you."

Ron grinned and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "That's why I like you. Always so supportive."

"Except about the Cannons." She added.

"Nobody's perfect." Ron answered back agreeably.

She smacked him lightly in the arm. "Beast." She pulled herself upright. "Who is your sister taking to the Yule ball?"

Ron shrugged. "Somebody? All I know is not Neville this year. Lavender can't shut up about how smart 'Nevvie' is going to look in his new dress robes."

Susan laugh was rich and deep. It sent warmth racing up and down along Ron's back. "I used to think that she and Harry were going to get together…" he said. "She always had such a bad crush on him. Is she over him?"

Ron kissed her. "Who cares?" He leaned over and kissed his girlfriend again. "I'm more concerned with who you're planning to take to the Ball."

"Well, I do know this one guy, but he kinda has bad taste in Quidditch teams…"

_Paris, France_

_A few days before the Yule Ball_

"Could whatever's in these journals help Harry?" Sirius asked from his perch on the bed.

He and Moody were back in their dank motel room as both men studied the books that sat on the coffee table next to them. They hadn't taken the journals back to London yet because they still needed to find the ringleaders of the local cluster of death eater cells. It was turning out to be slow going, because the French Ministry was a hotbed of pureblood prejudice and separating the merely racist from the truly dangerous was tedious work.

"I don't know." Moody said. "Either way, Harry'll be fine. He's a strong lad, Sirius. We both know that any child of James Potter and Lily Evans couldn't be anything but."

"I worry so much for him, Moody. The people he grew up with were monsters. He doesn't know what love is. The things people are asking of him…" Sirius' voice trailed off. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs. "He isn't equipped for it. James was strong, confident, grew up with parents who loved him and even so he barely had the strength to follow his heart instead of his duty. How can Harry be expected to find the strength?"

Moody clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "He's the best of both of them Sirius. Harry'll surprise you. He'll be fine. I've been training him myself when I have the free moments, he has the fastest wand I've ever seen." From Moody, that was high praise indeed.

"I'm not worried about his dueling skills. I'm worried about his heart." Sirius responded back quietly.

"I know."

After that the two men found they had little left to say to each other, so they snuffed out their meager light and went to sleep. Neither man was worried about being attacked in their beds, Mad Eye Moody was a master of weaving wards and he had spared no effort when layering their room with magic.

So it was to both men's great surprise when they woke in the morning and found the journals gone.

Small footprints, about the size of a large rat, circled the empty spot were the journals had laid the night before.

_The Night of the Yule Ball_

_Early evening_

"Gin!" Ron Weasley shouted from the bottom of the Girl's Dormitory. "Ginny! I need you."

The youngest Weasley appeared at the top of the stairs. She wore a thin robe, her face had a cleansing mask on it, and her hair was up in a mass of curlers. "What?" she said irritably.

Ron held up the dress robes the twins had bought for him at the beginning of summer. "Can you alter my robes? Please? I've outgrown them." he said sheepishly.

Ginny snorted and hopped down the stairs until she reached her brother. "Give them here," she muttered exasperatedly.

Ron passed the robes over and stared anxiously at Ginny. "You know," she said blandly while passing her wand over several pieces needing alteration, "there are some people who think that Susan is way too good for you."

"Are you one of them?" Ron asked with a smile.

Ginny gave her brother a small wink in return. "Maybe." She passed the robes back. "All done." she declared. "Mum couldn't do them any better. Is that all you needed?"

Ron stared at his dress robes. "Yeah, thanks." He started to walk away but he stopped after a few steps. "We don't talk much anymore, do we?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head. "Not really. Not since…"

"The diary?"

"That changed everything Ron." She said softly. "I couldn't go back to being just quiet little Ginny after what happened."

"I know." Ron said softly. "Doesn't mean I don't miss her."

Ginny met her brother's gaze. "Yeah? Well, I don't." she said confidently. Turning, she left him standing at the bottom of the stairs staring up after her.

Harry walked into the hospital wing looking for Fleur. He found his quarter-veela ex-girlfriend working hard over a potion, her robe sleeves tied around her biceps. A few tendrils of hair that had escaped from her bun kissed her neck. He quietly watched her working for a while before clearing his throat.

Fleur looked up and her face broke into a small smile. "'Ello 'Arry."

"Hi."

"Why 'ave you not dressed for ze dance." She asked quietly. "You should be looking nice for Blaise."

"We aren't going together." Harry admitted quietly.

"Harry… zis thing, you must do it." Fleur said. The pretty girl stood up to face her former boyfriend. "You zink 'eet does not 'urt me? You zink maybe you meant so little I could break up with you and it would mean nothzing?" She looked down. "Eet was 'ard for me. I am not used to losing a man zat I like. Zat I love. But part of love is doing what zey need, even when it is not what you want. I want you, but I cannot fight what iz in you. I cannot charm it, or subdue it with my powers anymore."

"I know why you did it." Harry said softly. "I'm giving her a chance. She thought we should go stag and see what happens."

Fleur nodded. "You 'ave rejected her too many times. She wishes you to court 'er."

Harry nodded. "Do you… save me a dance?" he asked hopefully.

Fleur shook her head. "No. I zink it will be too painful for both of us. Besides, you must focus on Blaise. You need 'er 'Arry." She shook her head. "You did not see what you did to Professor Snape. You raped his mind, 'Arry, almost killed 'im. I know you 'ate 'im still, but you must control these powers." She looked piteously at him "Unless you would like for me to be next. Or perhaps Neville? Ron? 'ermione?"

"You know I don't want that." Harry said a little spitefully. "I just want…

"You just want both of us. You wish to have everything" Fleur said sadly. "Both what you need and what you desire." She looked down. "Zee world does not work in zat way, Harry. Z'ere are always choices to be made."

"So that's it then?" Harry asked. "Just like that? You've made your choice so now we can't even dance together? Can't be friends anymore?"

Fleur's blue gaze was unwavering, the set of her jaw and the thin drawn line of her lips giving the impression of unbreaking resolve. But her voice was soft and understanding. "Unfortunately, 'Arry neither of us 'ave much of a choice. And anything else will 'urt too much."

"Fine."

Harry spun around and left. He kept walking even when his keen necromancer senses picked up the sound of muffled sobs that echoed ever so softly down the hallway.

Ron paced in the Gryffindor Common room, waiting for his two friends to come down. He, Harry, and Hermione were going to meet their dates at the entrance to the Great Hall and he was taking a moment to feel good about himself. He finally had robes that complemented his skin and hair color and, more importantly, didn't have an even an inch of lace. He was going to meet probably the prettiest girl in school who didn't have veela blood, and she had whispered to him that she had a special present to give him after the dance. Ron hadn't grown up with five older brothers only to remain ignorant about the facts of life, so he had more than an inkling of what Susan was offering. The anticipation lent electricity to the night. This wasn't going to be like last year.

He was going to have a good time with Susan.

Then he saw Hermione.

The bushy-haired girl had once again tamed her mane of hair, and she wore an ivory and brown dress that made her eyes somehow seem deeper and more mysterious. She walked carefully down the stairs, holding her dress in one hand revealing the high heels that had added to her height. Ron's breath caught in his throat and his complimentary platitude died in his throat.

Hermione gave a playful half-twirl as she reached him. "So… what do you think? Will Michael like it?"

Ron stared at her agape, unable to answer for a second until she blushed and touched her hair. "Is there something wrong?" she asked anxiously "Did I miss a spot with the Sleek-Easy?"

"No." Ron smiled. "I just can't believe how beautiful you look."

Hermione's uneasy expression broke into a wide smile. "Thank You, Ron."

The pair waited in companionable silence for Harry to come down. "This time I screwed up." Hermione said out of nowhere, not looking at her companion.

"What?"

Hermione turned to face Ron. "I screwed up." She said again. "Last year I told you to ask if you wanted to go with me." She gave Ron a bitter smile. "Then I spent all summer with you and I didn't do anything, even though I wanted to. I could have asked you on the train, or anytime over the summer and I didn't. I waited, and Susan asked you. As my father says, you can't win if you don't play the game. This time, it was me who wasn't playing, not you."

"Hermione..."

"You guys ready?" Harry asked. He hopped the last few steps and met up with his two friends. "You look beautiful Hermione. And Ron! You look… less maroon." He said, throwing an arm around the taller boy's shoulder and playfully pretending to ruffle his hair. "Less lacy too." He added with a smirk.

Ron shot his friend a crooked smile. "Thanks mate."

Hermione turned around and if her eyes were slightly damp, nobody said anything. The three friends headed out of the common room towards their respective dates.

The great hall of Hogwarts was decorated to look like the inside of an ice castle. The stones themselves looked blue and translucent—as if they had been cut by great frost giants and carried to Scotland. Small flakes of snow fell from the ceiling, giving the whole room the look of a life-sized snow globe.

Harry looked around for Blaise. She hadn't been by the door when he walked in with Ron and Hermione. He supposed this was part of the courting process, so he began to search for her among press of bodies.

As he searched, his gaze passed over the teachers who were resplendent in their dress robes—with the exception of Snape, whose black robes gave the impression of an oil stain against the winter backdrop. His heart clenched slightly when he saw Fleur, who looked stunning in an ice blue and white gown with a tiara of silver and charmed ice. She was a seelie princess straight out of the winter court of legends.

Their eyes met across the room and she acknowledged him with a very slight nod, before quickly turning away to smile at something Dumbledore said to her.

Harry fought his way through the mass of people until the crowd parted suddenly parted and he saw her.

Ginny.

His first thought was that he didn't know how she could afford a dress like that, but soon the secrets of her economic situation became the farthest thing from his mind. Her forest green gown complemented her skin and hair. She had done something to her freckles because they weren't as prominent, giving her face a clear-skinned look. More than simple clarity, Ginny's flesh was almost luminescent with its health. Her brown eyes caught his gaze and she smiled seductively, her gaze smoldering with barely restrained sensuality.

Even though Harry was supposed to be here for Blaise he couldn't take his eyes off Ginny. She was stunning. Why hadn't even he ever noticed how striking she was? How the light caught her hair and transformed it into a mane of fire. Why wasn't everybody else as amazed as he was?

He began weaving his way through the crowd towards Ginny when the student body parted for a second time.

Blaise.

She wore a gown of the purest white. It was sleeveless, backless, and tied around her neck leaving her shoulders and arms bare as well as plunging down her back, offering a tantalizing glance of her perfect posterior. She had only a small amount of makeup accenting her amazing cheekbones and rendering her lips a vibrant red. Her ebony hair was piled high and she wore a choker with a blood red stone that burned with its own inner light. The most amazing thing of all was her eyes. They were the blue of a gas lamp flame, and they burned with an almost hypnotic power.

Harry froze, transfixed. Both of them drew him to them, as a moth to a flame. They called to a primal part of him, the part of him that good little wizards didn't acknowledge. He had felt the power of veela charm before – Fleur was adept as using it to heighten pleasure – but this was something different. Something that couldn't be put into words.

The choice was removed from Harry when Blaise strolled up to him. She seemed taller to him, probably the result of heels that were hidden beneath her long gown.

"I suppose freezing you to your spot with my radiance is close enough to what I wanted." She said, a smile playing around her lips.

"You look beautiful tonight." Harry said sincerely.

"So do a lot of people." Blaise said matter of factly, with a slight glance towards Ginny.

Harry met her gaze with a strong, even stare of his own. "I'm not here with any of them."

"No," Blaise said. "You're not. And before we forget, you're not here with me either." Lacing her arm through Harry's, she continued with a smile. "But we'll see how things go."

Ron spun Susan around. After his poor showing the year before, Ron had asked his older brothers to teach him to dance. When the band finally started playing, he took the opportunity to show his girlfriend a few of his new moves.

The blond Hufflepuff laughed and drew her boyfriend closer. Nuzzling his neck she whispered nothings into his ear. Ron nibbled on her ear and kissed her on the dance floor, until a scowling Snape separated the two.

"Five points from each of you for your grotesque display teenage hormones." The dark teacher spat.

Ron pouted and drew Susan off to the side so they could have some privacy. Susan wrapped herself around her tall boyfriend, toying with a strand of his hair. "That's not fair" she said seriously. "I think that kiss was worth at least ten points" she finished with a giggle. "I think you're going to have a very good evening, Ron." She said seductively.

Ron arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, how good?" he whispered.

Susan started to answer but Ron didn't hear her. Across the room he saw Hermione arguing with her date, Michael Corner. The tall Ravenclaw 6th year was gesturing wildly.

Ron started forward, untangling himself from Susan without a second thought. "Ron, what are…?"

The tall redhead ignored her. His long legs carried him away from her confused voice. He only had eyes for Hermione.

"Is there something wrong 'Mione?" he asked when he reached the feuding pair.

"Sod off, Weasley." The tall Ravenclaw growled.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked, ignoring the older boy.

Hermione smiled weakly. "I'm fine Ron. We were just discussing something."

"Something private." Michael Corner added.

Susan walked up to the group. She had her arms wrapped around herself as if warding off the cold. A thin frown line had appeared between her eyebrows. "Is everything okay?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm fine, Ron." Hermione repeated. "Don't ignore Susan on my account."

The tall redhead nodded curtly, then left with his girlfriend trailing worriedly behind.

"Sod off." Ginny said forcefully.

Collin Creevey sulked for a minute but left after a low growl built in her throat.

Ginny ignored him. This wasn't right, she thought. Harry should be hers. She had done everything right. Used the power granted to her by the Succubus Queen to charm him. She had seen him from across the room, felt the energy between him. With her new senses, she could even feel the changes Harry had so recently told her about. She felt the glorious shadows within his soul, the black pit of his necromancy, the power taken from Voldemort like a vast yawning hole inside him. An ever-growing, eternally hungry emptiness.

It called to her like nothing she had ever felt before. It went beyond sex. It went beyond a love or desire or anything else she could label.

And then he had spurned her. Turned to Blaise and not looked back, drawn into the vampire's reach and out of her own.

Ginny had no intention of allowing her to get away with that.

Cloaking herself in a very subtle aura that repelled people away from her she moved into the crowd, parting the students like fine blade through a sheet of paper. Extending her senses she quested for Harry, searching for the reason that he turned from her and towards that half-dead harpy instead.

With her mortal eyes she found Harry. With her immortal, demonic senses she felt the pulse of power surrounding Blaise. It was familiar. It tasted like a vela, only with the coppery flavor of a blood magician. Black power, power that appeared to her like dried, darkened blood pooled around Harry's hand. More power, fresher, like the welling blood of an especially deep paper cut swirled around Blaise. Rich and flavorful. Vampire magic.

"_Somebody's been playing with Harry."_ she whispered in a singsong voice laced with poison.

Ron and Susan danced a slow dance but the ease which they had shared before was gone. Ron could feel something different in the air. A different, negative energy.

He turned to his girlfriend "Is everything alright, Sue?"

"Listen, Ron." Susan began hesitantly, "do you mind if I go freshen up and talk to some friends? You've been eating up all my time." She finished with a weak smile.

"Sure." Ron said, confused. He dropped a kiss on her cheek and she returned the gesture before disappearing into the crowd.

The tall redhead released an explosive sigh and went to go lean against a wall for a while. He stood silently watching the other students dance while he wondered what on Earth he was supposed to do. He and Hermione had… something, although what he couldn't define. He had liked her for so long, and now he knew that she liked him back.

But he and Susan had something worthwhile too, something real. Susan was good and beautiful, and basically the world's most perfect girlfriend. Why couldn't he just be happy with her? Why couldn't he just accept what he had?

"'Ello Ronald."

Ron blinked and was surprised to see that Fleur had approached him without him noticing. He gulped. He inevitably made an ass of himself around her. He had been to see her a few times for Quidditch-related injuries, and he'd barely been able to strangle out the answers to her questions. A lot of things had changed for him over the past seven months, but his pathetic reaction to Veelas was not among them.

But the familiar feeling of dazzle and disorientation never came, and after a moment Ron sensed why. Her aura wasn't active. Even the passive, clinging light that gave her skin it's perfect healthy sheen seemed to be gone. In every way, Fleur had been… lessened. She was beautiful, but no more so than any other girl blessed with attractive parents.

"Where is your girlfriend?" Fleur asked.

Ron gave her a casual wave. "Somewhere… powdering her nose, talking badly about me to her friends, who knows? Not here." He finished glumly.

Fleur extended her arms. "Bill eez a good dancer. I will bet you are as well. So dance with me until your girlfriend returns."

Ron smiled and stood up. He led her onto the dance floor, then gathered her close for the slow dance the band was playing. "You look sad," he mentioned casually. "I vaguely recall you smiling a lot more when you were dating Bill."

Fleur smiled weakly. "Bill iz a good man. Eet was just not meant to be."

"Well, whoever your new boyfriend is he must be an ass to make you look so sad." Ron said confidently.

"Eet was 'Arry." Fleur replied in a casual tone.

Ron's jaw dropped. "Seriously?"

Fleur nodded.

"Huh." The redhead said while scratching his chin. "So does that make me the ass?"

"Perhaps a leetle." Fleur said, a ghost of a smile on her face. "Eet was my fault. I broke up with him… he needed something I could not give 'im."

A dawning realization shown on Ron's face. "You're the reason why Harry didn't want to marry Blaise. He was with you."

Fleur looked down. "Eet 'urt me, but I 'ad to do eet. Eet was right."

"Well, you aren't going to be the only one who's going to be alone soon. I don't think Susan is happy with me right now." Ron said ruefully.

"What did you do?" Fleur asked curiously.

"What makes you think I did something?" Ron asked crossly. "All I did was go help Hermione when she looked like she was in trouble. She's my friend, what was I supposed to do, let that wanker Michael corner get his grubby, too-bloody smart for his own good Ravenclaw hands on..." Ron's voice trailed off and he broke away from Fleur. "Oh Merlin," he whispered, "I'm such an idiot. They say I'm thick, but maybe Crabbe and Goyle need to teach me how to think." The redhead moved over to a seat and collapsed into it.

"What is the matter?" Fleur asked.

"It's Hermione." Ron said. "Susan is jealous of Hermione."

"Should she be?"

"No. Yes. I dunno," Ron grumbled confusedly, "Maybe. I just… it's Hermione, you know?" He said sadly. "Hermione is… she's pretty and interesting and she pushes me to be better than I want to be, better than I think I can be." He smiled. "When I discovered that I liked dragons this summer and wanted to work with them like Charlie does, all I could think about was that Hermione was going to be proud of me for finally finding something I'm interested in." He looked up. "Is that stupid?"

Fleur smiled a little. "No." she said sitting down next to him. "It is not. You value her opinion. But do you like her romantically?"

"Yes."

"More than Susan?"

"I don't know." Ron whispered.

"You need to decide." Fleur said. "May I give you a piece of advice Ronald." she asked softly.

"Of course." Ron answered. "Anything would be great."

Fleur spoke gently. "I once had a nightmare. It was a terrible, vague thing that had me being beheaded for not being a pureblood." She shuddered. "It was a awful thing and my father had to comfort me. He told me that it had just been a dream and no dream could stand against the light of day. It would melt like a snowflake."

"I don't understand." Ron said confusedly.

"Who will melt, Ron," she asked gently, "And who will be there when the shadows of night have retreated? Decide quickly or both will vanish in the sunlight."

The evening was drawing to a close. There were only a few more dances left before the Ball was finished. It had already thinned out, with most of the younger years fading away while the older students took the rare opportunity to indulge their hormones in the open.

Harry wasn't quite sure how long he had been dancing with Blaise. It might have been a few hours. Or an eternity. All he knew was that over time, the Great Hall had faded away for him, leaving him surrounded solely by his partner's energy.

He could practically remember the number of times they had even broken each others gazes. There was something between them, something magical.

"I need to sit for a moment, Potter." Blaise said softly, interrupting his thoughts. "Even vampire regeneration can't work miracles on painfully high heels." She added with a smile.

"Okay." Harry looked around for either Ron or Hermione but didn't see either. It looked like both had slipped out with their dates while Harry was distracted. They found a few empty seats and sat in silence while Blaise rubbed her feet.

"Can your father really help me?" Harry asked. He didn't look Blaise in the eye as he posed the question. Instead he looked across the room, staring at something only he could see.

"If anyone can, he can." Blaise said softly. "That's why Dumbledore approached him. Vampire magic is what our clan does, and it's the closest thing in the world to True Necromancy. My father can help you Harry."

Harry nodded silently.

"I… I had a good time tonight." Blaise said in a tone that Harry would have called shy in anyone else.

"We're good together." Harry admitted.

"It's your necromancy. Our powers call to each other, bleed through into our emotions." Blaise smiled. "It would never have worked out between you and Fleur, Harry. You need someone darker, someone to speak out to the deepest wells of your magic. She could never have made you happy."

"I think you're wrong, Blaise." Harry answered back. "She could have. The old me, at least."

"Well," Blaise said with a bright smile, "I happen to like the new you."

Harry shot her a crooked grin. "Of course you do. You're a crazy Slytherin."

Blaise punched Harry lightly in the arm. "Bugger you."

Their faces were close now, and Harry could feel her breath on his cheeks. It was strangely cool, as if her body temperature wasn't quite right. Eyes flickered and met, green and blue, and invisible sparks danced between them.

"Are we…" Harry whispered.

"Yes…" Blaise answered back in just as low a voice.

They did.

The Ball was almost over. Ron glanced around, and even the most die hard partier was starting to fade. The night was late and people had had their fill of dancing, butter beer, and the other sweets. One of the last couples dancing was Harry and Blaise, and they were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't even notice they were one of only about five couples gamely dancing on.

Ron shook his head. He still couldn't believe what Fleur had told him. Jealousy had flared in him at first, the way it sometimes did whenever he compared himself to Harry and came up short.

Then Susan had returned to the Ball, and her radiance alone was enough to break up his one man pity party.

She had washed her face and fixed her hair, and she looked absolutely beautiful. And she was heading straight towards him. Whatever ugly emotions he had been feeling vanished like a snowflake on a hot afternoon. They vanished beneath the brilliance of her smile.

"Hi." She said.

"Hi." Ron said back.

"Would you like to get out of here?" Susan asked with a small smile.

"Yeah, I would."

Ron and Susan left the Great Hall and began wandering around the empty corridors of Hogwarts. Neither had to say anything, understanding that the other wished to stroll around the castle. Nestled in each other's arms, the pair drifted like ghosts, lost in thought and each other's company. The silence wasn't awkward, it natural. They could both sense a turning point in their relationship approaching, and wondered how the other would fit into it.

They had somehow wandered near Gryffindor Tower when Ron heard the sounds of an argument echoing down the corridor. Exchanging a confused glance with Susan, he turned and raced toward the shouting.

Rounding a bend, he saw Hermione arguing with Michael Corner. The taller Ravenclaw had edged Hermione towards a wall, leaving her with little room to escape. Hermione was rubbing her shoulder and looking scared.

"What in the bloody hell is going on here?" Ron bellowed.

Hermione glanced at him gratefully. "Michael and I had a disagreement about how we should end the night, he apparently doesn't understand the word 'no'."

Michael turned and faced the redhead. "Weasley, get the hell out of here. I'm just trying to get some of what you're getting"

Ron took a menacing step forward. "And just what might that be?" he asked in a low voice.

Michael smiled a lecherous grin. "We've all heard about Hufflepuffs, and how earthy they can be. You did good Weasley, to get Susan Bones. Rich, a babe, and a 'puff. Now piss off."

He had barely finished when Ron's fist connected squarely with his cheek, causing the older boy to stagger backwards into the wall. The Ravenclaw pushed himself forward and laid into Ron, landing a series of vicious punches into his torso. As a bully who was used to being the strongest person around, Michael was quite surprised when Ron didn't retreat, choosing instead to rear his fist back and drive a shot against the side of Corner's head that felt like it had originated in the vicinity of Ron's toes. Michael saw stars before falling roughly to his knees. Sometimes it really paid to have five rough-housing older brothers, Ron decided. He'd been in more serious fights than this over who got to use the shower at the Burrow first.

With muscles hardened by a summer of dragon handling and season of Quiddich, Ron grabbed the woozy Ravenclaw by the neck of his dress robes and hauled him to his feet, latching on to his shoulders in a vise-like grip and pushing him hard against the wall.

"Leave, Corner." Ron growled. "Before you get hurt."

The Ravenclaw frowned but nodded his head in agreement. Ron searched his face for a second before taking a step back and letting go. Michael staggered forward slightly before straightening his dress robes and walking away without a word.

"Susan," Ron called back. "I'm going to walk Hermione back to the dorms. Can I meet you later in our spot?"

Susan looked sad but nodded. "I'll be there." She said softly.

Ron nodded and gave her a quick kiss before turning back to Hermione. He gently took her arm and led her down the hall towards the entrance to Gryffindor tower. Hermione looked to be shaken and was sniffling very softly, and clung to Ron's arm nervously on the short trip. They stopped in front of the fat lady.

"Hello, dearies." The portrait said kindly. "Have a good time at the ball?"

"It could have been better." Ron answered. "Could you… uhh… give us a minute alone please?"

The Fat Lady winked lusciously. "Of course, dearies. I believe Sir Bekle on the third floor wanted to show me something. Now sounds like a lovely time to pay him a visit."

Hermione smiled weakly. "Thanks Ron. I think that's twice this year that you've saved me."

Ron smiled. "I'll always be there when you need help Hermione. Always."

It was then that he realized how close he was to his best female friend. She was tall enough in her heels that she reached to just beneath his chin. Before he could consider what was happening, Hermione tilted her face upward slightly and parted her lips gently. Reacting without thinking, Ron tilted his head down, his lips just brushing hers…

"No." Ron said. He stepped back and shook his head. "Stop. This isn't right. Susan is my girlfriend."

"But Ron… I thought…"

"So did I. I'm sorry, but this isn't right." Ron whispered. "I've liked you for so long 'Mione. But I don't want things to be like this. If we do this, it's not fair to Susan. She's been good for me. Good to me."

"You're right." Hermione said softly, reaching out to touch Ron's face gently. Stroking her fingertips softly along his cheek, she continued. "But that doesn't change how I feel, or how you feel. I know how you feel about me, Ron, and I feel the same way about you. Don't you see? It's always been us. I want to be with you, Ron. But it's not up to me, it's up to you. What do you want?"

Blaise kissed Harry playfully. Her lips darted in and teased his mouth, nipping at lightly. Harry returned the favor, finding a hollow on her neck to nuzzle as the pair walked down the hallway towards Blaise's dorm.

"This ended a lot better than I thought it would, Harry." Blaise murmured seductively.

"I still don't like it, but I think I can learn to endure the hardship." Harry answered with sparkling eyes.

"Stop." Blaise said.

Harry stopped, confusion on his face. The blue-eyed Slytherin growled out, "I just want to kiss you properly. Grabbing him, she kissed him aggressively, pushing him into the wall. She pulled back only after Harry indicated that he needed air.

Harry was about to speak when they heard the thundering of footsteps echoing from behind them.

Ginny Weasley rounded the corner. She had hiked up her dress so that she could run easier and her hair had fallen out of its elaborate coifing, so that it cascaded down her back like untamed flame. Her eyes were wide with fear and her pale face was flushed.

Harry took a step forward. "Ginny, what's wrong," he asked worriedly. "Is someone after you?"

"Get away from her, Harry." She screamed.

Harry glanced behind him. "Blaise? You want me to get away from her?"

Ginny raised her wand, arm trembling. "She's got a spell on you, Harry. It's to make you think she's more beautiful—more special than she is. I saw it at the dance." She shook her head. "I didn't want to believe it but by the end of the night, I knew for sure."

"Blaise hasn't done anything to me." Harry said. "Have you, Blaise?" he called back to her.

The glance behind him told something different. Her blue eyes had widened in surprise and she touched the red gem at her choker. Harry began to get a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"It's vampire magic, Harry." Ginny said fiercely. "She's trying to get to you." The redheads brown eyes gleamed in darkened corridor.

Blaise took an aggressive step forward. "How could you tell I was using vampire magic?"

"No Blaise." Harry said in a hard tone. "I think the real question is why you were using vampire magic on me in the first place. I thought… I thought our connection was because of the necromancy and your power calling to each other." He took a step towards her. "Did you decide to make a connection when there really wasn't one? How much of it was a lie? Do you even believe your father can help me? Or am I just a safety net for you—somebody you can wrap around your thumb?"

"I swear Harry that it's not like that." Blaise said desperately. "I knew about Fleur; you had just broken up with one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen and I… I just wanted to measure up. To give you a taste of how beautiful I could make myself for you. So you wouldn't think you were getting a bad deal. It wouldn't have worked if there was nothing between us; I didn't create anything, only amplified what was already there." Blaise's voice was soft and weak, worry laced through every word.

"You can't believe her, Harry." Ginny said. She gestured with her wand towards Harry's hand. "For her to get into your head like that, she would need a focus, some kind of talisman. Something to connect the two of you. Like that ring…"

Harry glanced down at the silver ring with the jewel-bright drop of frozen blood. "You just can't trust a Slytherin, can you Ginny?" he said in a voice of deadly calm. He slipped the ring off his finger and held it up. "You're the one who decided to play dirty, Blaise. You must have been planning this for quite some time. I think it took all of one whole day before you sent this to me. Did you have a good laugh on my expense? 'Look at Potter, he doesn't even know what I gave him but he wears it anyway'. How could you even keep a straight face when we talked in the Room of Requirement? All your talk about not having control—about the control being mine was a lie, wasn't it?"

Power radiated from Harry and Blaise took a fearful step backwards. "Harry… it wasn't like that. I swear. Maybe at first, before I knew you, I wanted to see if I could manipulate you, but I realized I couldn't. Not after you helped my father. That's why I went to Fleur, because I wanted a way to get to you that wasn't trickery, wasn't Slytherin."

Blazing ruby eyes stared at the half vampire girl as Harry held up the ring. "I see how well you resisted resorting to trickery." In a violent motion Harry shattered the ring against the stone wall. Blaise flinched at the sound, a tear trickling from the corner of her eye.

She flinched again when Harry grabbed her jaw with his hand. Necromantic power swirled so strongly around him that it was an almost visible aura. Flecks of power danced in his eyes. She could feel his strength in his hands, and knew that he could crush her jawbone to powder if he wished. He pulled her down to her knees in the middle of the filthy hallway.

"_Its fun being under someone else's power, isn't it Blaise? I could make you do anything I want. I could make you pleasure me right here, right now and you would, because you weren't lying about how our power calls to each other. My call is just much louder than yours."_ Harry hissed in a sepulture tone. _"But I'm not going to do that. Because you sicken me. Your tricks and lies sicken me. You couldn't even approach me like a real person. You had to lie and cheat and pretend to be something you weren't. Leave now, leave and never approach me again."_

The last words had the strength of magic and when he let go of Blaise she flew down the hallway, disappearing into the darkness.

Harry stood, watching her for what seemed like a long time until Ginny touched his arm. "Come on, Harry. Let me take you back to the Tower. Everything will be all right, I promise."

Ron and Susan's spot was the alcove where they had their first snogging session. It was in a little-used section of the second floor of the castle. Before they were officially a couple, they had snuck there a few times to get physical.

When Ron approached, he could see a dejected Susan sitting on the floor. She glanced up and considered him with red-rimmed eyes.

"We had some good times here. Didn't we Ron?"

"Yeah." Ron said slowly.

"I was a good girlfriend, wasn't I?" She asked. "I thought we were good together."

Ron moved to sit by her. "Of course we were good together." He said, grasping her small hand in his large one.

Susan looked at him tearfully. "I knew it couldn't last. I knew that you and Hermione would find each other eventually." She gave him a watery smile. "Did you know that the Hufflepuffs have a house pool about when you two will get together? Everyone knew that you liked her, but when you came back from the summer, you were so tall and so strong and so handsome, and I thought: why not? We could go out for a while and then we'd break up. Casual, you know? The only thing is, after a while I didn't want to break up with you. I loved you and I didn't want to lose you to Hermione."

"You didn't." Ron said quietly.

Susan's blond head snapped upwards. "What?"

"Me and Hermione…" Ron began. "Hermione and I… well, the thing is that I liked her for such a long time. I had built up this whole world in my head where we would eventually get together and we would have a heaping bundle of little redheaded librarians and live happily ever after. I never counted on you. What I wanted with Hermione was just a fantasy, one that she probably wouldn't even be able to live up to. You, on the other hand, are real. What we have is real. We just click. You listened to me when I talked about how I want a big family like mine, but how I want to make more money than my father so we won't have my family's problems, and you made calming potions for me when I was so nervous about Quiddich that I would puke before every practice. You know my passions, my fears, my inner secrets – Hermione doesn't know any of those, because I've never been comfortable enough to share them with her. Our relationship is real because it's based on real things. It's not a fantasy. But I've still been clinging to this fantasy Hermione and not being fair to you. So I'm letting her go, right now. Hermione will always be my friend, but no longer my fantasy." Ron leaned over and kissed Susan gently. "I think my reality is better."

Susan kissed him back enthusiastically and their hands started growing bold.

"We could still go to the Astronomy Tower." Susan offered breathlessly.

Ron shook his head. "I want to… do that… with you… very much. I don't think it's just a good idea right now. I don't want you to have any regrets and if we go tonight, I'd feel like I was taking advantage. We've got enough going on right now without adding that into the mix."

Susan nodded wordlessly and lay her head down on her boyfriend's shoulders. He drew her close with one arm and they sat in warm silence for a long time.

_Paris, France_

_Outskirts of the city_

_The night of the Yule Ball_

The Delaombre estate was located well off the beaten path. A large manor house that had existed for centuries, the mansion was the ancestral home of a once large and powerful pureblooded family.

That family had been reduced to just two members, a pair of distant cousins who married each other and had two children—both of whom attended school at Beauxbatons—to carry on the family name and keep the bloodline alive.

It was here that the clues to both Peter Pettigrew and the journal's location had ended up. Both of the Delaombres were highly placed, powerful death eaters. Naturally Wormtail would have run to them for help.

Alastor Moody's roving eye surveyed the Death Eater safe house. The enchanted ocular device showed him the array of wards and enchantments that were layered over the home of Angelique and Pierre Delaombre. Wards to repel Muggles, spells to deflect scrying and apparition except by those keyed into the shields, even a few ugly offensive jinxes that caused the hoary old auror to blanch were present over the frame of the home. It was the most through warding the old wizard had seen outside of Hogwarts. Not even the ministry, handicapped as it was by legal and ethical warding constraints, equaled this home.

It made sense as the married Deladombres were known pureblooded supremacists, as well as ward makers for the Ministry. They were masters of weaving and unweaving magical protections, so they could have easily unraveled the magics Moody had placed on his hotel room, allowing Peter Pettigrew easy entry and exit.

Moody knew that Sirius was circling around in his dog form, but couldn't see him. The big black hound blended into darkness like he had been born there.

The plan they had come up with was bold, brave, and absolutely insane.

Alastor bent low to the ground and scratched a few runes into the soft dirt. As he did so, he canted in gravelly language that built up speed like a boulder gathering momentum as it rolled down a hill.

Power flowed out of him and into the ground. Imperceptibly at first, and then with increasing speed, the ground began to quake.

The ground around him began to shake and cracks shot across the expensive stone driveway. Geysers of earth shot high into the air. A few of the trees on the property were forced from the ground, their roots shaking like the tendrils of a dying octopus.

The front door of the house flew open as a pair of figures were framed by the light inside the home.

"Pierre, I will check this way." A lilting female voice called out. A slender female form carrying a wand slipped off towards were Moody was standing. The old wizard heard an answering grunt from the other wizard.

Moody was invisible, thanks to a charm which hid him, but as he started to move a wave of dizziness struck. The spell he had just used was a difficult one and took a lot of power. A lot of power, most wizards couldn't have cast it. All Moody had to do now was avoid a pair of powerful wizards who were experts in defensive spells, all the while recovering from the strongest spell he knew.

That was the crazy part.

The door was left ajar and the wards were disabled around it, so it was child's play for the large black dog to slip in once the married couple left to check on the earthquake spell.

Once inside, the dark four-legged figure blurred for a moment and Sirius Black stood in the foyer holding his wand in a tight grip. "Point me Peter Pettigrew." The ex-convict whispered. The wand spun around and pointed to the second level. Sirius smiled and padded up the stairs.

"Point me Peter Pettigrew." He whispered a second time.

The wand spun around like a compass needle and settled on a door at the far end of the hallway.

The solid oak door was shut and probably locked and warded. That was the sort of cowardly act Sirius expected of his former friend. He felt his pulse hammering in his chest and the flush of excitement spreading over his body. It had been too long since he had felt this way, for too long he had been locked away in his family home, for too long he had done nothing but worry about his godson, as though he were a fluttering old grandmother instead of a young, vital man.

He pointed his wand at the door. "Reducto!"

Angelique Deladombre glanced around her section of the grounds. A murmured spell later and she had the night vision of a cat. The world focused into a black/white panorama that hid almost nothing from her. She advanced cautiously. The spell that created the miniature earthquake had a very short range and would, by necessity, have been cast somewhere on the grounds.

She fought back her nervousness. It wouldn't do for anyone to find out who she had her husband currently had as a houseguest. While their pureblooded predilections were tolerated by their coworkers, she knew their support would fade quite quickly if it were discovered the mark they both bore.

"_Revelo Insible_." She whispered.

A pulse flashed from her wand and illuminated the area with a grey orb of sunlight. Even as she was casting she heard a rustle of movement and from the corner of her eye she saw a shimmering, indistinct figure revealed in the light of the spell

"Pierre. He is here!" She cried out. Her sensitive night eyes sought out telltale marks of his passing. Crouching low she made herself a smaller target.

Her husband came, barreling through the grass towards her. Light flashed and she cried out. When her vision cleared her husband was a crumpled figure in the dirt.

Angelique waved her wand, drawing spell shields from the aether around her and raced forward. Pointing her wand, she wordlessly cast enervate on her husband. Pierre stirred and she stood over him, protecting him and daring their attacker to show his face.

Peter Pettigrew paced nervously in his room. Not for the first time, he cursed the weakness which had led to him working for Voldemort. The fat wizard flexed his silver hand and tried to imagine a world where he hadn't betrayed the Potters, a world where the marauders were still together. It was an old game, but this time his mind would not play. All he could think about was the earthquake outside. It was small and localized, which screamed magic.

He hated the fact that Voldemort sent him on these overseas missions, his emissary to the foreign cells. Voldemort insisted that he was the best suited for the missions, that his skill at stealth and his Animagus form meant it was almost impossible for him to be captured or killed.

And stealth was the watchword for this phase of Voldemort's plans.

Not that Peter Pettigrew knew what his master's ultimate plan was. No one knew. All he knew was that Voldemort was obsessed with getting the Litany of Blood and the Journals of Fleur De Sang. Somehow they would go together and reveal some sort of spell or magic that Voldemort wanted.

There were grumblings that the war hadn't begun in earnest yet, but Peter knew that any mumbled dissent would be silenced soon. He knew at least that much of the plan, and that Christmas wouldn't be very merry at all in the Wizarding world.

He was musing on that when the door to his room exploded inwards. The journals fell out of his hands in shock.

"_Stupefy_!" A voice familiar to him cried out.

On reflex, Peter assumed rat form and began to scurry away.

Sirius smiled. "You aren't getting away so easy this time. _Accio_ Rat."

Peter tumbled through the air sailing towards Sirius. So he did the only thing left to him. He turned back into a human form and all two hundred and ninety pounds of him slammed in Sirius Black.

Not expecting that, Sirius was rooted to his spot and his wand was knocked loose from his hand. Turning with more agility than he would have thought possible, Peter twisted around and began slamming his silver hand into his old friend's side.

Moody recognized the Grey Sun spell. Not particularly dark, it was more of an obscure spell that few people would know let alone cast. Neither as permanent as an anti-invisibility ward nor as powerful as a eyesight spell to pierce his magical stealth, it was still an effective spell because of the vast area that was covered by its revealing rays.

Moody supposed that he wasn't really required to capture them, that all he really needed to do was to buy time for Sirius to pick up Pettigrew and the De Sang Journals, but pride wouldn't let him work so passive a role. He wasn't ready to be put out to pasture yet and he wouldn't be as long has he could grip a wand in his gnarled hand.

"_Cestus Domitus_."

A force in the shape of a fist barely visible to the naked eye made a rushing sound as it split the air. The bolt crashed into the woman Delaobmbre, bowling her over.

Moody moved as quickly as his wooden leg would allow and fired a stunner directly into the already downed witch. With his attention distracted, it was only the lucky roll of his artificial eye that alerted him to her husband's motion. Rolling onto his stomach, he turned and fired a point blank reductor curse at the old auror.

Only the reflexes born of a lifetime of battle saved Moody. A slash of his wand caught the edge of the spell and deflected it off to the side. A second later a red bolt of lightning spat from his wand tip and the second Delaobmbre was stunned into insensibility.

Breathing hard, Moody levitated both of them into the front of the house. It wouldn't do for he and Sirius to be there when the French Aurors showed up, but an anonymous note delivered through floo and the pair trussed up in the foyer, a few of their illegal spell books around them and their robes ripped strategically to reveal their dark marks should be enough to lock them into Azkaban forever.

Sirius roared and turned into Padfoot. Latching his maw around the fleshy upper arm of his former friend he began to wrestle. Despite Peter's larger size, Sirius was much stronger and he managed to extricate himself from the fat wizard's grasp and pinned him the same way he had pinned François Malfoy. But Wormtail had an advantage not shared with the young French pureblood. He again assumed rat form and slipped free. Like a shot he bolted towards the door.

Sirius knew that if Peter made it to the door he might be impossible to corner. Blurring back into his human form he dove for his wand. "_Immoblius_." he bellowed.

The jet of deep amber light struck the small rodent with a silver hand and Peter froze in mid-motion, skidding across the floor before bouncing off the ruined entryway.

Sirius blinked in surprise. He hadn't actually expected that spell to land. It was an impossibly lucky hit. Getting up, the former prisoner groaned. He was far too out of shape for this. He grinned slightly at the thought. James would have teased him mercilessly for the traitorous thought. Marauders didn't get old, they simply got better looking with age.

"_Accio_ journals." The pair of leather bound books flew into his hands.

Slowly Sirius sat down on the bed. He stared for a moment at the small rat with a silver hand. Almost impercibly at first, but with slowly gathering force he began to cry.

He had done it. He was going to get his name back. To be free, free to move out in the open. Free to live and love and start the life that had been on hold for so very long. To be a real role model for Harry, instead of a godfather who crept about in the night.

He was going free.

Read, review, and let me know how much you care.


	19. Merry Christmas Mr Voldemort

Harry Potter and the Litany of Blood Chapter 19

By Phoenixgod2000

Casting…

The Trio

Harry Potter… (Young) Orlando Bloom

Hermione Granger…Emma Watson

Ron Weasley…Jon Foster

Schoolmates

Luna Lovegood…Summer Glau

Susan Bones…Jessica Simpson

Psyche Malfoy…Dakota Fanning

Blaise Zabini…Kiera Knightly

Draco Malfoy…Tom Felton

The Order of the Phoenix

Kingsley Shacklebolt…Bob Marley

Albus Dumbledore…Richard Harris

Nymphadora Tonks…Natalia Tena

Severus Snape…Alan Rickman

Sirius Black…Clive Owen

Fleur Delacour…Gisele Buncheon

Evil Guys

Voldemort…Ralph Fiennes

Evil Unhooded Death Eater #1…Christopher Walken

All Evil Hooded Death Eaters (voice only)…James Earl Jones

Siren…Angelina Jolie

Bellatrix Lestrange…Helen Bonham Carter

Narcissa Malfoy…Portia De Rossi

Lucius Malfoy…Jason Isaacs

Author's notes: Well JKR has put out another book so I figure that I should at least come out with another chapter. This has been a difficult one to write and I've rewritten large sections of it numerous times trying to make it sound right. It's still not perfect but I think it is as right as I am going to get it.

* * *

The prisoner sat in the ministry interrogation room, counting the dingy tiles in the ceiling. It wasn't as though he had better ways to pass the time. He had worn the ill-fitting prison robes from for what seemed like an eternity. The plain robes blended into the background, creating an endless lack of color that irritated the prisoner's eyes. Briefly he wondered if he would ever see color again or if the ability had been taken from him. Maybe he was going mad.

Without warning, the door creaked open and tall, handsome black wizard with long dreadlocks entered into the cramped space. The prisoner was familiar with the man: Auror Captain Kingsley Shacklebolt, a powerful, honorable wizard and a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Peter Pettigrew," he said in a deep and resonant voice that echoed in the cramped space, "You have been charged with innumerable crimes against the Wizarding World and the Ministry of Magic, including the murders of James and Lily Potter and aiding and abetting You-Know-Who." Grinning, Kingsley revealed impossibly white teeth. "Beginning now, you are going to aid and abet us."

He reached into a pocket in his robe and removed a small vial. Popping the wax stopper with a deft flick of his thumb, he grabbed Peter's jaw in a powerful hand and forced the prisoner's lips apart before pouring the contents past clenched teeth.

"Veritaserum." Peter coughed, trying vainly to spit the remnants of the potion from his mouth. "How… intelligent of you. I suppose that shows that even the Ministry of Magic learns eventually. Pity for you it couldn't have been fifteen years ago, before Sirius went to Azkaban. Might have saved him a lot of pain," he finished with a rat-like smile.

"Sirius Black was your friend." Kingsley spat angrily. "How could you betray him?"

"James and Lily were my friends, too." Peter said quietly. "I have lots of betrayed friends."

"Well, now you get to betray Voldemort. Beginning with the reason he's gone to so much trouble to find some dusty, historical relics. Our historians assure us that Fleur De Sang was quite mad, so you're going to tell me what Voldemort thinks he's going to find in her journals, and why."

The words flowed haltingly from Peter's mouth. "The Journals… De Sang wasn't crazy… at least not any crazier than the Dark Lord, or Dumbledore, or any truly powerful wizard… the Dark Lord learned that she succeeded in a ritual—some kind of experiment that the Dark Lord wishes to duplicate." The Rat Animagus shook his head, fighting in vain against the effects of the truth potion. "It's related to the Litany of Blood. De Sang was working with Vampire magic. But it won't work as long as Harry has his necromantic powers. The ritual will only work for a necromancer."

"How many Death Eaters know of this ritual?" Kingsley snapped.

"Most of the Death Eaters have heard whispers. Only Lucius and I know that he can't perform it until he gets his necromancy back."

"We'll come back to the ritual. Now, tell me why he's been so quiet lately. Why hasn't Voldemort acted openly, or attacked anyone." Kingsley demanded.

"He waits to break out his most loyal, still in Azkaban. And the Golem hasn't finished growing."

"When does he plan to attack Azkaban?"

"I don't know. Soon." Peter asked after a short struggle with his mouth.

"What of the Golem? Tell me." Kingsley asked.

"I don't know. It's been growing for months; The Dark Lord doesn't speak of it, he tells me only that it is important, and made from his own—"

Sirius burst into the cell, and before Kingsley could react he had the tip of his wand held to his old friend's temple. "Enough. I have a question of my own," he growled. "Why, Peter? Why betray your friends? We loved you."

An ugly look passed Peter's face. "You were never my friends. You and James just… you mocked me, and picked on me. I was just little Peter Pettigrew, the tagalong. The extra."

"Bollocks!" Sirius protested. "We protected you; we helped you with your form. You helped create the Map, and with our pranks. We spent summers together. You stood with us at James and Lily's wedding, and you were there when Harry was born. You were always one of us, Peter."

Peter suddenly lunged at his friend. "SHUT UP! I WAS NEVER ONE OF YOU!"

Kingsley pushed him back, and the fat wizard abruptly regained his composure. "You and James, you never respected me. You never liked me. Lily, too. She pretended to be kind. Nice. But she was no better than you lot. No real time for Peter. Only James was worth her time." Peter said, bright-eyed and feverish. "I wanted her so badly, and her empty kindness… she was teasing me. She would never have looked at someone like me. Never. You all laughed behind my back—James, Remus, you. You thought it was so funny: 'Powerless little Peter and his ridiculous crush on the great Lily Evans.' But Voldemort showed me the truth. He promised her to me. He showed me the way things really worked, about how people respect power—how she only respected power." Peter stared off into space, his eyes focused on something that he alone could see. As he continued, his voice was a pained mixture of joy and loss. "Prongs respected my power in the end. It turned out that I had the power to see him dead."

No matter what Sirius or Kingsley did, Peter refused to speak afterwards.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy rubbed her eyes wearily as she compared the ancient writing in dusty tome to the pages containing her careful translation and notes, yet again. The dry, scholarly work—recently uncovered in the catacombs of a Pureblood family that had died out during the first war—had cost a literal fortune; for the book itself and for keeping the knowledge of it's discovery from the Dark Lord. Discretion was not purchased cheaply, but was worth every sickle when her life and freedom hung in the balance. The author—the bookish, third son of an ancient pureblood clan who fancied himself a magical scholar—had apparently decided to secure his place in history by recording the body of magical knowledge of his time. Tucked among many pages of banal (and obsolete) magical theory was a passage that had piqued her interest. For the hundredth time, Narcissa re-read the chapter for which she'd risked so much.

_**CX. – THE ARCHMAGE STAFF**_

_**The staff is the defining characteristic of an archmage, and the greatest of wizard-kind have always been identified by the staff they carried. The methods and craft of creation have remained been a closely-held secret, and the historical scarcity of talismans of this type for study by interested parties has long served as the primary stumbling block to lifting the veil of secrecy—which has doubtless served the average archmage quite well in maintaining their air of mystery and prestige.**_

_**I approached the problem of the archmage staff by working backward from characteristics (both verified and speculated) described by historical accounts of staffs of this type, the most well-known of which in the modern era was wielded by the archmage Merlin.**_

_**CX.I – DESCRIPTION**_

_**While minor physical characteristics differ, all known records of staffs report them as being wooden and similar in appearance to a stout branch or walking staff for which, presumably, the name is derived. Most recorded staffs are wielded by fully human casters and are generally narrow wood cylinders of approximately 2 meters length (material and finish varies), capped by a magical focus. The shortest staff on record was wielded by the last Goblin Archmage, Bonekiller the Bloodthirsty (whose notable defeat led to the prohibitions on Goblin wand-magic contained in the Human-Goblin Accord of 1042, and the eventual role of Goblins in finance), and was reported as being constructed (ironically) from the offshoot of a Giant Redwood tree less than 1 meter in length. The largest recorded staff, at over 4 meters, was wielded by the Half-Giant Sweeney the Short, who lived in Germania from 400(est.)-692 AD (the staff material is not recorded, although the lack of transportation magic in the era in question suggests the use of local flora for construction material). Regardless, it appears that the length and material of the staff varies according the user (in the same manner as a standard wand) and is not a vital consideration in construction.**_

_**CX.II – USE**_

_**While specific examples vary, it is widely understood that the primary use of the archmage staff is as a focus in the casting of great and terrible magic's (notably the annihilation of Atlantis at the hands of the Society of Midnight Emeralds, a cabal of Archmages). It is also generally reported that the archmage staff is not vulnerable to either physical or magical attack, although the author suspects that this property is not inherent to the staff itself, but rather a side-effect and result of the relative magical superiority of the wielder and the influence of time and distance on the recollection. In fact, it is documented that an archmage staff shattered when the wielder (Rudolph the Red, circa 1400 AD) had his soul removed in his sleep by a rogue Dementor. It has been documented that an archmage staff can be summoned to the wielder over tremendous distance (this feature is consistent among all accounts of archmage staffs)—some fanciful reports even suggest that a staff can be called across dimensions, although the author remains skeptical for want of independent verification.**_

_**CX.III – IMPLICATIONS**_

_**While it is impossible to discount the import of the wielder when considering the question of the archmage staff, some consistently reported characteristics strongly suggest a shared mode between talismans of this type. In particular, the inability of a staff to be used by other than the creator (even in the case of the death or defeat in battle) is unique among magical foci (recall from Chapter IX.IX that the brother wand effect exists even for custom-crafted wands). It is my belief that the observed phenomena can only be explained by the use of soul magic. Particularly, that the true power (and secret) of the archmage staff is that it is imbedded with a fragment of the soul of the wielder, infused into wood and contained by various runes and glyphs of power (see Chapter CXI.XII for further discussion of soul-magic). In this way, the Archmage's staff would seem similar to a horcrux in form, although unlike a horcrux, it is my belief that the rituals of creation would render the soul fragment in the staff a wholly separate entity from the soul of the creator, a demi-consciousness unto itself (and unable to be rejoined to the soul of the creator). This limitation would make the archmage staff unsuitable for use as an anchor in the various resurrection rituals (Chapter XV.I).**_

_**CX.IV – CONSTRUCTION**_

_**As previously discussed, there is no recorded account detailing construction of the archmage staff (Unfortunately, lacking adequate magical potential to perform the various rituals involved, the exercise remains in the realm of speculation). Through careful experimentation, the author believes that he has recreated the theoretical foundation for the manufacture of a typical archmage staff…**_

_If only that were true_, Narcissa Malfoy thought wearily.

She sat at her laboratory desk and considered the white ash staff that rested there. It was six feet long and adorned with runes from a dozen human cultures and a few nonhuman ones. Oils and unguents have been rubbed lovingly into the shaft, and the dust of gems and rare metals filled the grooves that shaped the runes of power. Magic crackled along its length. It was truly an impressive magical talisman.

And nowhere near an Archmage's Staff.

Narcissa silently fumed. Months of work, wasted. Risks taken and money spent for nothing.

She stood up and faced her window. Closing her eyes, she allowed the warmth of the rising sun to wash over her face. More importantly, she tried to wash away the worry. Worry for her husband.

She loved him.

As much is it was possible for people like them to love, she loved him. He was a powerful, proud pureblood. He had given her Draco and Psyche. For other people, in other families, her love—their love for each other—wouldn't be a weakness, but it was for them. There was simply no room in their lifestyle for love. It didn't fit into the plans of the almighty Voldemort.

Voldemort. His name was a curse—a summation of what was wrong with the movement. When he had first appeared so long ago, she had encouraged Lucius to join him. To take the mark of his servitude. She had believed Voldemort to be just another pureblooded movement leader. More powerful and charismatic, perhaps, but a man just the same. How wrong she had been. Voldemort had proven to be anything but just another man…

The spells and rituals he had conducted on himself transformed him into a monster. A God-Beast of nearly limitless power and appetite for destruction. While he would probably call himself a higher being, Narcissa had made a study of transcendence and Voldemort had definitely not elevated himself.

It was only when the great Dark Lord had led them on a rampage through the Wizarding world, killing many of the finest minds that studied magic out of the fear that they could turn that power against him, that she realized the grave mistake she had made. She desired a society of purebloods who worked on their art—devoted themselves to it the way she had so that they might exceed their own limitations and become something more—something greater.

While they might seem godlike compared to muggles, she knew just how much potential lay in a wizard's core and how few wizards truly unleashed it. Narcissa wanted more for herself, her family, and her people.

After Voldemort was destroyed by that brat Potter, she had gone through his notes looking for anything worth saving on his transformations. Some of what she found sickened her.

More of it intrigued her.

Voldemort had been searching for a way to become a being of pure magic—a God in all but name, capable of altering reality with the slightest act of will. His notes on magical cores and the experiments he performed on unwilling wizards were a revelation and a testament to his genius—twisted as it was. She had taken his notes and experiments and created a special fertility potion. A solution that—if it acted as she believed it would—would create a new type of wizard. One who didn't require crude implements to focus his magic. One who wouldn't need to rely on uncertain genetics to grant them the unique gifts of magic, but would be born with the potential for them all.

She still remembered her elation when she finally finished the formula. It was all her dreams, everything she could ever want. She would create the great new wizard; the man would usher in a new age. She wasted no time in brewing an actual dose and seducing her husband into engaging in his role in the act of creation.

Psyche had been the result of her experimentation. Her shy, frail little girl was nearly everything that she could have asked for. She had no need for a focusing tool and her raw magical discharges were off the scale using every power measurement she could find. She was an untutored Animagus with a nearly unique form, she had prophetic dreams and there were even signs of metamorphmagi talents. Her powers seemed without limits…

But her daughter was flawed as well. Psyche's magical core was unstable, leading to seizures and ill health. Great expenditures of magic could harm her and possibly even kill her. She was totally unable to find a suitable wand—thanks to her core—and the wand they had eventually found for her reacted poorly with her natural skills. There was no one in the world capable of training her to full ability, so she would be responsible for discovering her powers on her own. Still, she was an important step along the road to perfecting the race of Wizard. Psyche's own children might be born without such weaknesses and they would benefit from her knowledge.

Whatever her flaws, she knew that Voldemort wanted Psyche for study. When he had visited Lucius in secret upon his return, he doted on the little girl in an attempt to win her favor. Merlin only knew what he would do to her precious daughter if he got his hands on her.

Narcissa was broken from her thoughts by a disturbance in the wards. Opening her eyes, she saw two figures trudging towards the front door of Malfoy Manor. She smiled a rare, genuine smile that held no artifice.

Her children were home.

* * *

Blaise Zabini flung her bag at the front door of the brownstone she lived in with her father. The house was eerily silent, although this was probably because it was high noon and she was the only one in the house who wouldn't burn to a cinder if she opened the damned drapes.

"Father!" she called out.

His answer echoed down the hall "In the study, Blaise."

She found her father reclining in his chair, a female blood doll sitting at his feet like a good dog. He was sipping scotch from a small glass while smiling at a tall raven-haired goddess of a female vampire. She had full red lips, heavily-lidded seductively blue eyes and tall lean figure. She wore a black vinyl pants and a blood-red corset that served to highlight her various other charms.

Her father's sister. Dear Auntie Siren.

"Hello Blaise." her father said blandly. "I trust you had a good term at school? Learning your Latin and all that?"

"I'm doing well, Father." She answered back in just as bland a tone. She knew he didn't care one wit about her schooling. She was just a brood mare to him—a half blooded embarrassment he wished to be rid of as soon as it possible.

"You can't be doing that well." Siren interjected derisively. "If you were, we would be planning a wedding to Harry Potter." The dark haired vampire grinned wolfishly. "Your failure can only be your human blood telling."

Blaise arched an eyebrow laconically. "Well, since you failed to marry James Potter I can only assume you must be _lacking_ in some fashion as well."

Siren slapped Blaise, the powerful blow snapping her head around. Blaise touched the back of her hand to her bleeding mouth, and lapped up the blood with a rasp of her tongue. "Violence is the last refuge of the slow witted, _Auntie_." she chided pleasantly.

Siren backhanded her again, this time knocking her into a bookshelf. Blaise thudded heavily to the ground but was on her feet in an instant. Her eyes had darkened to the hue of fresh blood and fangs curved out of her mouth. Hissing, she threw herself at her full-blooded aunt.

Damien bolted to his feet, catching his daughter in mid-leap with a powerful arm. "Enough, you two!" he ordered, his powerful aura filling the room and commanding their obedience. "Siren is right, Blaise. Your mission doesn't seem to be going particularly well." Damien said, placing his daughter back on her feet. "It would seem as though all those expensive lessons in the arts of seduction weren't all that useful."

"Harry doesn't take kindly to manipulation." Blaise said. "And he's getting worse. He commanded me to stay away from him and I can't get within twenty feet of him now." Blaise snarled. "If it hadn't been for that bitch Ginny, I might have better news. He was finally warming to me before she pointed out that I had used a blood gem as a focus for my powers."

Damien mused aloud. "The fact that he is a powerful necromancer will make training even more imperative. Hopefully, that fact alone will lead him to you even though your charms have apparently failed."

"You should train him anyway." Blaise said desperately. "He needs it. The power inside of him is going to kill him. Or at the least the part of him that makes him great."

Siren smirked. "Oh, this is rich. You actually care for the little human. How utterly pathetic."

"It's difficult to believe you couldn't keep James Potter, Auntie." Blaise said sarcastically. She turned to her father. "You must agree to train him, Father. He needs his powers leashed. At least give him a taste—after all, he did warn you about Voldemort's attack on the temple."

Damien slammed his palms down on his desk. "No! I owe him nothing for that. His family owes us much and that warning was but a small part of it. No, I will not train him. Not until he fulfills his father's obligation! Blaise, I cannot believe you would deny your heritage to the point that you would sacrifice family honor for him—the grand scion of the man who nearly wiped us out."

"Our family honor will mean nothing if we allow Harry to be consumed by his magic. He is a center point in the coming war. We need him." Blaise pointed out.

Damien sat down. "We need him to be ours, Blaise." Her father said wearily. For a moment he attempted to be other than a king as he spoke to his daughter. "We cannot have a trained rogue necromancer in play. Not even if it is your Harry."

* * *

Amelia Bones sipped slowly from her oriental tea cup while assessing her current guest. He was a tall, feline man with long, lean limbs, green eyes and mane of cinnamon hair not unlike the color her own had been in her youth. She thought that they might be distant cousins on her father's side. Rufus Scrimgeour, the head of the ministry's hit wizards. A competent, dangerous wizard and a political animal with almost no equal in the current government. Amelia detested him, but she realized he was far too influential to deny a simple request for tea.

"The tea is quite lovely." Her companion murmured. "An eastern blend, unless I'm mistaken?"

She nodded. "I became positively addicted to it while stationed in China when Charles was Ambassador there." She smiled. "It is reputed to have all manner of magical properties, but I have yet to see any of them manifest."

He laughed gently and shook his head. "I will never understand how wizards can still be so provincial and superstitious with all that they can do."

"Why are you here Rufus?" Amelia asked bluntly.

He took a long drink from his tea before he answered. "Who are you supporting in the election?" he asked.

Dumbledore had used his influence to get a no confidence vote passed against Minister Fudge. That meant that there needed to be an election to vote into office a new minister, and quickly. Fudge was running again, of course. He desperately wished to maintain his grip on power. Surprisingly, Arthur Weasley had also thrown his hat into the ring, although he was polling poorly and seemed destined to fade back into obscurity—of course the support of Harry Potter could actually change that if Weasley was smart enough to use his family connection to the Boy-Who-Lived. Several lesser known officials were also running and, thankfully, diluting the Ministry vote between them. The entire election seemed to be going nowhere fast.

"I haven't decided."

"Would you be willing to support me?"

"Do you plan to run?"

He leaned back in his chair. "I'm considering it. I would hate to burn my political capital without a guaranteed win, but your endorsement would go far to help me. You are well respected, and there are some that wonder why you are not running yourself. You could dominate the field."

Amelia smiled calmly. "Those who know me do not wonder, Mr. Scrimgeour."

"Will you endorse me?" he asked again.

Amelia was about to answer when her beautiful niece walked into the room, blushing as she realized she was interrupting the meeting.

"I'm sorry Auntie, I didn't realize…" Susan Bones stuttered.

Rufus stood up painfully. An old leg wound caused his leg to seize when it was locked in one position for too long. "Nonsense, my dear." he interjected with a pleasant smile. "You aren't interrupting anything. I was merely asking your aunt a question."

Susan looked between them. "Oh, and which question was that?"

"Susan," her aunt chided. "You know better than to ask."

Rufus held up his hand. "I don't mind in the slightest. Hogwarts students are the voters of the future and I value their insights." He smiled at the young Hufflepuff. "I was asking your aunt if she would be willing to support my bid for Minister in the special election."

"Are you, Auntie?" Susan asked.

"I haven't decided." Amelia Bones answered truthfully.

Rufus smiled. "Perhaps you can convince her for me Susan."

"Do you believe that You-Know-Who is back?" the blond asked bluntly.

"I do not, Miss Bones." Rufus answered gravely. "You don't remember the war. I and your Aunt do. Voldemort was never one to hide in the shadows and lay low; he wanted to cause fear, to cripple our world with it." His hands tightened on the arm rests as he spoke. "If the Dark Lord had actually returned, we would know about it. The bodies he'd leave would be evidence enough."

"Then, Sir, I'm sorry to say that I can't support you." Susan said respectfully. "I'm dating Ron Weasley and I would try to get her to support Mr. Weasley. He believes Harry Potter, and so do I." She smiled impishly at both adults before stating, "I'm going to go check on Mother, Aunt Amelia. Have a nice afternoon Mr. Scrimgeour."

Rufus frowned at the retreating backside of the young Hufflepuff. "You have a very interesting niece, Amelia." He said blandly.

"I'm proud of her." Amelia answered placidly as she sipped from her tea.

* * *

The rest of the school term had passed uneventfully for Harry. Moody had stopped training him, complaining that he needed to rest; he even seemed to be going more easily on the students in class. He and Ginny had spent a lot of time together—something that hadn't escaped notice by either Ron or Hermione. Both seemed happy for him, if surprised by his choice, so he was content. Fleur had retreated to the hospital wing, rarely seen by anyone other than Madame Pomfrey. Blaise, thanks the necromancy fueled order, couldn't get within speaking distance of Harry. Others still treated him like rubbish because they didn't believe him, and the Daily Prophet had started making noises about his and Dumbledore's role in the Minster's recall.

All in all, it was an unremarkable end to the winter term for Harry.

Remus Lupin was supposed to be the one to fetch Harry from Platform 9¾ once the teen disembarked from the train. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny walked together for a short distance before going their separate directions.

"So you'll be at the rally before Christmas then, Harry?" Ron asked for the thousandth time.

"Yes, Ron." Harry said in exasperation. "And you'll all be at the Manor on Christmas Day?"

Percy had written to Harry to ask him if he would be willing to make an appearance on behalf of Arthur's Ministerial campaign. Harry had of course agreed, and they had come up with an open-air rally a few days before Christmas in downtown Diagon Alley. In theory, the Alley would be packed with potential voters for Arthur to meet. In turn, Harry had invited the Weasleys to spend the holidays with him and Sirius, who should already be back from his Order mission.

"Of course we'll be there." Ginny answered with a sweet smile. "We wouldn't miss it for the world." She reached out and touched a few strands of Harry's wild hair. The Boy Who Lived leaned into her touch and smiled warmly.

Ron nodded in agreement. "I have to find some time to meet up with Susan, too." He mused.

Hermione sighed. "This is where I get off. Have a good Christmas." With that, she walked off towards her waiting parents.

"It was something I said, wasn't it." Ron asked.

Harry nodded. "You mentioned Susan in front of her—you probably shouldn't do that, I'm guessing. I wouldn't worry though. A good vacation should sort her right out."

Ron and Ginny both gave Harry hugs and departed to meet up with the twins and their parents. Harry watched them for a minute and then left the platform to wait for Remus.

Only it wasn't Remus who came to pick him up.

Harry blinked. And then blinked again. His eyes weren't deceiving him. His godfather was striding up to him like he didn't have a care in the world, wearing the biggest smile Harry had ever seen.

He looked at least ten years younger, too. He wore muggle style clothing cut out of Wizarding materials. Black jeans, a man's dress shirt made out of Aracumantala silk and a calf-length Dragon hide jacket gave the impression of causal elegance and wealth. And for the first time Harry could remember, Sirius face didn't show the weight of his haunted past.

He stopped a few feet away from the gaping Harry. "Happy Christmas, Harry." he said softly.

"But… how… the Ministry…"

Harry couldn't think. He couldn't react. This was a dream. A fantasy.

"It's real, Harry." Sirius said softly. "I swear it. I'm finally free."

A dam burst in Harry and the Boy Who Lived bolted into his godfather's waiting arms. For one brief second on the wintry sidewalk of London, the shadows passed from Harry's mind and he was just a boy who finally had a guardian who loved him.

* * *

**December 23**

**Diagon Alley**

Percival Weasley loosed a long-suffering sigh.

For all his virtues, his father was just not a great politician. He was too obvious while he read from cue cards, he stumbled over words in his speech, and his voice was as far from commanding as it could possibly be.

He didn't much look the part either. His tall gawky figure didn't look Ministerial in his cheap robes, his balding head was freckled, and that along with his long nose gave the impression of great balding vulture.

Carrion birds did not get votes.

Percy stood on the stage behind his father with the rest of his family. His girlfriend of some months stood at his side with her arm wrapped around him. Tonks watched Arthur with wide-eyed wonder. Her hair was currently Weasley red and she had given herself a few purple freckles smattering across her nose—an in effort to fit in more with the family she proclaimed.

Percy didn't have the heart to tell her that freckles weren't really purple.

They all stood beneath a great open air tent in the central square of Diagon alley, protected from the winter cold by a complex network of warming charms. Rows of conjured benches in front of the stage and foodstuffs for those shoppers who chose to stay awhile to listen to Arthur Weasley filled the tent.

At the front of the great tent was a raised dais where Arthur stood with his wife, five of his seven children, Tonks, and Harry Potter. The young boy wizard had a prepared a few remarks to introduce Arthur before he turned the dais over to the tall redheaded ministry worker.

Everything was ready; his father had a great speech written by several very well paid former Prophet Employees who were known for their turns of phrase. People were packed in the streets for last second gift purchasing and a few had drifted in, curious about the tent. Reporters had come, looking for a story involving the reclusive and publicity shy Harry Potter.

But absolutely no one was paying attention to his father.

* * *

"—Sirius Black is the last in a long line of examples of the incompetence of the current administration." Arthur spoke, with his wand magnifying his voice to reach the back of the tent. "For too long we have allowed corruption, bribery, and incompetence to influence the Ministry of Magic. We have allowed mediocrity to flourish because we do nothing to force improvement. While the Ministry will not say this, I will. Voldemort has returned and we no longer have the luxury of maintaining the status quo. We need change now, before inactivity begins to cost lives."

Arthur Weasley looked up from his prepared speech and the light went out of his eyes as he saw how few people were watching him and how even fewer were taking him seriously. A few reporters with Quick Quote Quills were writing furiously on long rolls of parchment—probably about the abysmal turnout. He could write the headlines himself.

_Boy hero Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived gives endorsement to long shot Ministerial candidate Arthur Weasley…_

He sighed. It wasn't fair. Of all the people for Dumbledore to approach, why did it have to be him? He had spent too much time in his cubbyhole, keeping his head down. Yes, he knew what was wrong with the Ministry. Yes, he would solve it if he could, but he wasn't a baby kissing politician. He didn't have the fire in him that the job needed. He was Arthur Weasley, muggle technology fanatic, not Arthur Weasley, future Minister of Magic. Why had he ever thought he was?

He flung his papers to the ground and stalked away from the podium. He could hear the murmurs erupting behind him, the scratch of quills chronicling his embarrassment.

Percy ran up and circled around to head him off. "Dad, where are you going?" he asked with hurt in his eyes.

"You did the best you could with what you had." Arthur said flatly, "But it wasn't meant to be."

"You can still win, dad." Percy insisted. "Dumbledore is going to give us all the money we need to run the campaign."

"So we can be the candidate bought and paid for by Albus Dumbledore?" Arthur said with a bitter laugh. "I think not. He tried that with Fudge and look where that got him. All the talk of being Albus's puppet ate him up and left him a shell. Same thing'll happen to me."

"You aren't going to be a puppet, Dad. Dumbledore wants you to be a real minister. Get reforms done."

Arthur waved his hand around the tent. "I am never going to win, son. This isn't a political campaign; it's a pathetic attempt of has-been ministry worker playing at Sisyphus. I wanted to do this for you. I really did, but I can't… I just can't." Arthur smiled sadly at his son. "I'm tired Percival. I'm tired and I'm going home."

Percy watched as his father walked out of the tent and up the street, not even bothering to apparate away. He looked around vainly, looking for someone, anyone who he could look to for guidance. He wanted to cry, to scream, to hit his father to make him see what he was doing, what he giving up. It was fear, that's all that was holding him back. Fear.

He shivered as the cold winter morning bit through his warming charms. His bones felt like they were turning to ice. Clutching his wand reflexively, Percy looked around. People were stopping on the street, shivering despite the warming charms that coated their bodies. Children began to grab their mother's hands. The very youngest began to cry. Looking up in the sky, Percy saw grey clouds roll over the bright winter morning casting the whole alley into dark shadows. A chill wind began to blow

Something was wrong.

Tonks appeared at his side. Her hair was black and sensible with no hint of Weasley red. Her eyes were flat and professional.

"Dementors."

* * *

Susan Bones sat on her bed, listening to the Wizarding wireless and thumbing through a book on the Animagus Transformation. She had discovered that she had the form of a golden parakeet and wanted to study up on the process. She, like everyone else, had brewed and taken the potion for the transformation under the watchful eyes of Professor Snape, but she had yet to attempt her first transformation. While her animal wasn't exactly a battle form that could help in the war against Voldemort, she'd be able to fly and that sounded like a lot of fun. Besides she really wanted to be able to help Ron with his form. She hadn't been kidding when she'd told him that he could write his own ticket in the ministry if he could master the change. She'd told her Aunt Amelia about it and she was very interested in meeting the boy who might be a dragon.

A small smile played about her face when a scream rent the air.

_Mother!_

Susan reached for her wand and raised it barely in time to deflect the bolt of a Death Eater who burst into her room. The young witch had learned a few things about dueling thanks to Harry preparing her for the upcoming tournament, but that was competitive dueling, not fighting for her life.

The shield she erected collapsed under the weight of a second burst. Susan rolled off of her bed, using it as cover from the death eater in the doorway.

"_Accio_ wardrobe." she shrieked.

The heavy mahogany cabinet crashed into the skull masked wizard standing in the doorway, crushing him flat. Susan stared at the still twitching legs of the man she just killed before forcing her eyes away from the image and moving away. Her mind raced. What was she supposed to do? Why hadn't the Ministry wards done anything? Her mother's screamed kept coming from the downstairs.

Then they stopped.

* * *

Fleur was in Hogsmeadee when the attack happened. She hadn't yet departed for her family's ancestral home in France. Since she wasn't a Hogwarts student, she didn't get the same holiday schedule that the students enjoyed. As an apprentice, she had a duty to helping her mistress brew potions and stock shelves for the students return.

She had gone to the potion shop in Hogsmead for supplies when, on a whim, she had decided to go to _Salenestra's Sultry Silks_, an upscale clothing store that had a few things she might buy for her mother, grandmother and aunts—veela women tended to age well and have expensive tastes in clothing. She was standing at the counter paying for her packages when she heard the explosion.

"Did you 'ere zat?" She asked the owner.

She barely notice the shopkeeper nodding as she lifted her wand up. Quickly shrinking the packages she moved towards the window so that she could peak out. She saw a half dozen death eaters walking brazenly down the center of the street, jets of multicolored spells flying from their wands. The masked wizards were flanked by four huge creatures. The man-things carried clubs bound with rune-marked silver bands and they swung them with great enthusiasm at anyone who came near—and failing that, the walls of the buildings they passed by. She could see spells bursting over the roofs of other building and she knew there had to be more of them.

She froze. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. What she was seeing was impossible. Her father had told her stories about his time in the French Auror corps but this…this was beyond the young girls understanding. Words were one thing but seeing it was something else entirely. Fleur was barely able to decode the scene with her eyes. Her mind wouldn't wrap around the images. Fleur could see that several people were lying in the streets behind the marching invaders, badly injured. One man in particular seemed to stare straight at Fleur, even though she knew that he couldn't possibly see into the darkened building. Despite that, she saw his accusing eyes.

_You're a healer_

_Do something_

So she did.

* * *

Even in the warm tent, the well remembered cold struck Harry like a physical blow, and he recognized it instantly.

Dementors.

He began searching for the distinctive black-cloaked figures. The other Weasleys on the stage were looking around as well; most of them in confusion—they could tell something was going on, but not what. Mrs. Weasley was staring after her husband, her homely face furrowed in sorrow. Absently she rubbed her arms, trying to massage warmth back into them. Ginny had a faraway look in her eyes and she thumbed her wand. Without looking back at her family she jumped off the stage and moved into the crowds. The twins were ribbing each other and didn't seem to notice anything. Ron and Harry exchanged dark looks. Both of them had felt this before, and they knew they only had moments before they would be crippled with the black memories that accompanied the evil creatures.

"Mum." Ron called out. "We have to go."

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "No… No. We can't leave without your father."

Ron's eyes hardened. "He's already left, mum. Walked off the stage." Taking his mother's hand, Ron lightly leapt off the stage and helped her down.

Harry followed a moment later. He stared after Ginny, a mad desire to chase after her overwhelming his thoughts. He took a single step forward only to shake the desire off. Instead he turned around. "Guys," he said, calling out to Fred and George. "We have to go. Something's wrong."

The twins looked up, for the first time noticing the cold and the grey skies. While they were undeniably silly people, neither was stupid and they recognized the signs instantly. They jumped off the stage and walked up to their mother and youngest brother.

"Take her." Ron instructed. "Get mum out of here."

"You take her." George countered. "We're older. We should stay." The twins finished in unison.

"Take Mrs. Weasley and get out of here." Harry ordered. "We have to go after Ginny. She's run off."

"She did?" Ron asked. He looked around and blinked. "Huh?"

At the mention of Ginny the two older brothers nodded. "Okay. We'll take mum and leave." Fred said. He turned to his brother. "Wood's?"

"Wood's." George said in agreement. They each grabbed their mother by the elbow and ducked out through the tent.

The two young men drew their wands and walked out of the tent in the opposite direction to Fred and George.

"Point me, Ginny Weasley." Ron said to his wand. The stick of wood quivered and spun around but didn't settle on a direction.

Harry grinned. "Still can't get that to work? Point Me, Ginny." The wand spun and pointed down the street.

As the two began walking in the direction the wand was pointing the sky overhead grew even darker and the shadows of Diagon Alley lengthened.

"We have to hurry." Harry said, staring down the street.

Ron nodded, but it was too late. Animated swirls of darkness gathered and tiny bits of darkness spun out of the heavens. As they grew closer they revealed themselves to be the rotting robes of Dementors.

"Harry, mate, I'm a bit scared." Ron muttered. His pale skin looked even more pallid as he fought against the rising tide of fear that was bubbling unchecked from his subconscious. "If you've got any of those necromancer tricks handy, now would really be a good time."

"Yeah," Harry muttered back, "I'll get right on that."

Diagon Alley experienced a pregnant pause as cold and fear in the minds and bodies of the hapless wizard shoppers. A Pause that shattered when the first emerald blast shot from a side street, dropping a middle-aged witch in robes while her young daughter still held her hand.

A moment later the Dementors touched down and the battle for Diagon Alley began in earnest.

* * *

"_Reducto_!"

Susan blew the wardrobe off the crushed wizard and fragments flew into the hallway. A scream let her know that there had been a second wizard coming up the stairs but the explosion had knocked him over the upstairs railing.

The blond witch rushed out of her room. Sounds of battle filled the lower level of the house and—worried about her mother—she leaned over the rail to see what was happening. She had barely peeked her head across the banister when an invisible knife slashed her cheek. She fell backwards and quickly crabwalked back to the safety of her room.

The sounds of footfalls thudding heavily on the stairs startled the young witch and she fumbled for her wand, only to have it fall from her nervous fingers when she saw her aunt.

Amelia Bones breathed heavily, sighing in relief at the image of her nice. Strands of hair hung loosely from her ruined bun and scorch marks stained her robes.

"Quickly Susan, we have to get help," she barked.

"Auntie, what about mother…" Susan asked, thinking only of the delicate woman who she loved above all.

Her aunt only pursed her lips and shook her head before ushering her through the door to her room.

Fleur looked around quickly. Where were the aurors? Why hadn't anyone come? There were wards all over Hogsmeade. Alarms should have sounded in the Ministry.

"Iz there anozer way out of 'ere?" She quickly asked the shopkeeper.

"Through the storeroom," the owner of the store said, "But you can't go out…"

Fleur ignored him and raced into the back room and out the door. Quickly applying a disillusionment charm, Fleur crept carefully along the alley until she could see the old man that had spurred her into action.

He laid the street, alone. As she got closer she realized he wasn't dead, although the blasting charm that had struck him probably made him wish that he was. Luckily, much of the violence and battle had carried along to another part of the town, leaving only a single large Ogre to stare confusedly at the buildings.

Ogres were related to both men and Trolls. Some believed them to be the ancient remnants of Neantherdals. Twice the size of man with hirsute bodies and humanoid features, Ogres possessed a great deal of resistance to magic and incredibly dense bones and muscles. They were killing machines and this particular specimen seemed both particularly large and particularly stupid.

Of course, the many formidable defenses that Ogres possessed did not include immunity to veela charm. So Fleur made herself visible to the creature and before it could react, she unleashed her aura.

The raw emotional magic struck the Ogre with far greater force than any cutting charm or cannonball. His dull eyes widened and his broad, brutish nose flared with desire. He took a clumsy step forward and reached out longingly with a rough hand.

Fleur schooled her features and allowed him to touch her face. That only strengthened her hold over him.

"What is your name?" The young veela asked in a voice of golden light and honey.

"Gog." He grunted. "You pretty," he continued.

Fleur smiled softly. "Will you do something for me?" she asked.

"Me do." He answered eagerly.

"Take him inside." Fleur ordered. "Gently."

The Ogre carried the man carefully through the doorway and deposited him on the floor. Fleur passed her wand over him murmuring a few diagnostic spells.

"Is he going to be alright?" the shop owner asked.

"He will." Fleur said decisively. Whispering more spells she stabilized him—praying that it was fast enough to halt the permanent nerve damage that might result from the attack.

She glanced out, through the doorway to the battle beyond. Wizards and witches dueled with death eaters and monsters in the streets of Hogsmeade. The man in front of her had been the first person to really need her healing spells, but he would not be the last.

"Gog, I would like you to go outside and kill every masked man." Fleur ordered calmly.

The Ogre grinned at her, revealing broad, yellow teeth and complied.

Fleur looked around again

* * *

A jet of orange light spat past Harry. He recognized the spell from Moody's lessons, but he didn't have time to wrack his memories for the name.

Death Eaters fought amidst the swirling cloud of Dementors. Somehow the masked wizards were able work through the chilling cold. It had to be a spell or shield of some kind, and Harry lay odds that it was locked in his mind, in the memories and magic of Voldemort that he had sucked out.

But the chill seeped through his bones and it was all he could to keep moving, concentrating on one of Moody's first pieces of advice.

Always move. Never stay in one spot.

He could sense more than see Ron at his back. The two of them moved like dance partners, covering each other. The dueling practice they had worked so long on was paying off. Even if it was only sport dueling, it was more than most wizards could do.

Flecks of cold sweat dotted the redhead's face as it tightened in concentration. "_Expecto Patronum_." Ron shouted. Silver light flashed from his wand, driving a Dementor back.

Scattered throughout the alley, other wizards fought. Silver flashes, Patroni or something very much like them, detonated soundlessly from the wands of wizards capable of handing the spell.

_Where were the thrice-damned Aurors? _

As if in answer to his unspoken question, apparation pops sounded in the alley as the wizard enforcers began to make their presence known.

Harry ducked behind some barrels near an open-air fruit stand, Ron dropping next to him a moment later.

"What are we going to do?" Ron asked. He looked around. "We'll never be able to find Ginny in all this."

"I have no idea." Harry responded. He rubbed his head. He couldn't think. Worry for Ginny consumed him. Every kissed child, every stunned witch had her face. She was in trouble. He knew it. With deep even breaths like Dumbledore showed him, he locked away his worry for the redheaded girl. Twisting, Harry fired red lighting from his wand. A death eater barely deflected the spell only to fall pray to a similar spell from an Auror.

The Boy Who Lived looked around. The battle was utter chaos. The average witch or wizard just wasn't equipped to be a warrior; most didn't know battle magic beyond what might be used to dispose of house hold pests. A few brave ones were fighting, but they were dying for their bravery and inexperience. And the thin cries, the wailings of children in a hell beyond what they could imagine, filled the air between spells.

It was the most awful thing Harry had ever seen.

"Harry, we have to get rid of the Dementors. There aren't all that many Death Eaters, but the Dementors, they're crippling everyone." Ron said insistently.

"I can't summon my Patronus." Harry hissed. "I've been trying, but nothing happens. I think it's the powers that I took from Voldemort. I don't think I can do it anymore." Harry glanced down ashamedly. It was one more thing that Voldemort had taken from him, along with his Animagus form. Being able to cast a Patronus had made him special—it was something he could do on his own, and not some piece of celebrity fluff that didn't matter. And now Prongs was gone.

Ron frowned and nodded. Squaring his shoulders, he stood. "Back away, Harry. I'm going to try and transform. See what they do against a dragon."

Harry scrambled back. "You can't do that Ron, you just took the potion. You haven't had any training!"

"Sirius says it's just concentration." Ron said with his jaw set squarely.

"He also says the first time hurts. And it'll hurt more with a bigger form." Harry pointed out.

"You sound like Hermione, mate." Ron said, ignoring Harry as he closed his eyes and screwed up his face. Harry watched his friend while keeping an eye out for any stray spells.

Ron screamed. His eyes widened and he gasped, his chest moving rapidly trying to suck in great gulps of air. The redhead's hands flexed convulsively and they started to shift from dragon talons back to human flesh. Harry knew that something was wrong. The transformation was supposed to be smooth. First you were in one form and then you were in the other. You weren't supposed to see the transformation. It was happening too slowly.

Ron fell to the ground, veins pulsing in his neck, eyes flashing from shimmering gold lizard slits to human brown and back again. Over and over again.

Harry realized that his friend was trapped in a Transfiguration Lock. He couldn't make the complete transformation, but his mind was so fixated on completing it, he couldn't stop it either. He was just locked in placing, moving from partial form to partial form, his muscles and organs straining and tearing with every partial change.

If Ron didn't get to medical assistance soon, the stress on his body would kill him.

* * *

"Susan, we have to get out of the house." Amelia said without preamble as she led her niece into her bedroom.

"Apparate us out."

"I can't." Amelia said grimly. "I already tried moving upstairs by apparating and I nearly splinched. They have wards up." Amelia raised her wand and with a motion Susan's antique bed flung itself into the doorway.

"Auntie, where is mother?" Susan asked in a very small voice.

"She was cursed in the back. She had just gotten home from shopping when they attacked." The old Auror said kindly.

Susan held her hands to her mouth. "Is she…"

"I don't know sue. It all happened so fast…" She laid a companionable hand on Susan's shoulder. "But she's very strong; my brother didn't marry a weak woman."

After speaking Amelia looked out the window and seeing that the grounds seemed to be clear of attackers, grabbed her niece by the hand. "We're going to jump, dear, and I'll slow the fall. When we get to the ground, just run. Run as fast and as far as you can. Get to the broom shed and take the fastest one we have and leave. Get to the ministry or Hogwarts." Amelia instructed.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to apparate to the Auror office, grab some friends and come back for your mother." Amelia said flatly. "Now, chin up."

Susan nodded and took her aunt's hand. Together they jumped.

* * *

Fleur flicked a drop of blood off her forehead and stared at the witch on the ground before her. Passing her wand over the woman's midsection, she muttering every chant, spell, and trick she had learned from Madame Pomfrey, hoping in vain that this time she would get a different result. Unfortunately for her patient, nothing she did had the power to turn back time.

The woman had lost her baby.

Smashed in the stomach by a stray troll blow, the young witch who was the clerk of _Potions for All Occasions _had lost the child she had been carrying for two months. She might not have even been aware of her impending motherhood. Fleur wanted to weep, to cry out over the injustice that just devastated this young mother-to-be. But she pushed her emotions from her mind and drew her healer's duty around her heart like a shield. This is why she had become a healer. She wanted to be like the woman who had saved her father's life as he had fought for the French hit wizards in the days before he became a vintner. And there were more people to help.

Always more people.

Muscles protesting, Fleur dragged her patient underneath the overhang of the store. She might have used magic but she was growing weary and she needed to preserve her magic for more important tasks. After making the woman comfortable as she could and placing her in a healing sleep, the young healer stood up to find someone else to help.

There was no shortage. Spells and weapons flew back and forth. Aurors had come. Not many of them to be sure, but they had come. And with them came the Professors of Hogwarts. The old teachers fought with grace and skill, seemingly everywhere around the battle all at once. There was tiny Professor Flitwick, somehow dueling five death eaters at once to a complete standstill. Here was McGonagall and Alastor Moody fighting back to back, the aged witch moving with surprising skill and grace while the wizened Auror at her back fought with overwhelming power, using his superior skill and experience to crush younger, less competent wizards. And Dumbledore… was everywhere, a being more of spirit than flesh, wielding a staff of power that rained devastation wherever it was aimed. Fleur's gaze eventually settled on two Aurors who had been knocked unconscious in the midst of the running battle that drifted through the streets of Hogsmead.

One had been the victim of a rather vicious cutting charm and the other had no mark on him. If he wasn't clearly breathing, Fleur might have thought him a victim of the killing curse. With a motion of her wand she levitated the two wizards and dragged them back to her makeshift medstation. She was so enthralled by her work that she was caught completely off guard by the explosion.

Fleur was flung backwards by the blast, her world reduced to a maelstrom of heat and smoke. Her horrified eyes saw two Aurors she tried to help blacken and shrivel in the blast while she, somehow, had been thrown her clear of the center.

She hadn't escaped unscathed of course. The ends of her long, silver hair was seared in the blast and she barely found the presence of mind to activate a fire dampening spell on herself. Her lungs burned and her eyes teared as she tried to peer through the smoke. Forcing the flames away with her spell she stood up.

Through the smoke a death eater carelessly strolled through the fire towards her. Hidden behind robes and the characteristic skull mask, Fleur couldn't even tell if her attacker was a man or a woman. What was clear was that whoever the attacker was, they were clearly skilled. Brandishing their wand in the classic German dueling style, the attacker wasted no time in flicking a second fire spell in her direction.

With the instinctive reactions of a French dueling champion, Fleur leapt into the spell, using her wand to reflect it back in death eater's face. The orb of fire splashed around him and she could hear sepulchral laughter from behind the mask.

"You killed zem!" Fleur shrieked. In a rage she flung a stunner at the death eater. Parrying the spell with an exaggerated slash the death eater laughed again.

"Don't trying playing with me, little half-blood." The death eater chided in a deep and resonant voice. "I'd be forced to kill you. And that would such a…" the death eater stopped to take an exaggerated moment to look her up and down. "…waste."

Fleur smiled. A man. She could deal with a man. Shaping her veela charm in to a dagger of lust she launched it at the wizard.

"You will do as I say." She cooed. "You love me. You want me."

"While you are indeed beautiful, I think not." The death eater said. But there was strain in his voice. Fleur smiled. She was getting to him, regardless of what he said. "But enough of that. Let's play, little girl. See what you have in that pretty little head of yours." he continued.

The two began trading spells in earnest. Fleur spun and ducked, launching an array of hexes and jinxes in her opponent's direction. Deflecting them with casual swishes of his wand, he sent jets of fire in her direction.

"You like zee fire too much." Fleur said. "Eet will be your undoing." With a wave of her wand she reflected the blue jet of fire in the wall of the nearest building, flinching as she did so. Fire was being deflected but the heat was still gathering around her.

In a flash of black smoke the death eater apparated in front of her, covering the distance in the blink of an eye. With his gloved off hand he grabbed Fleur by the jaw. "I have other tricks."

"So. Have. I." Fleur forced out. She twisted her body to reposition her wand and a flash of red shot from her wand, striking the wizard cleanly in the center of his chest. The spell forced him back. Fleur expected him to fall. That was the strongest stunner she knew.

But while the mysterious death eater was driven to his knees, he was definitely not out of the fight. His robes must have been layered with defensive charms. He slashed diagonally with his wand and forced a whip of living blue flame to erupt from the tip.

_He had made a mistake_. The Flame whip spell prevented the wizard from casting any other magic while he was using it. He couldn't defend himself while it was up. Her smile died as he sidestepped her next stunner and lashed her across the shoulder burning her badly.

Of course, if he was an expert with the flame whip, he didn't need other spells.

Fleur danced backwards and the Death Eater laughed again as his whip grew in length. He snapped it towards Fleur and the young healer screamed in pain as the flaming tendril wrapped around her wand wrist.

With an agonized gasp, she dropped her wand. A second snap wrapped around her knee and she collapsed to the ground in anguish.

_I'm going to die_

She was never going to see her mother or father again. She would never watch her little brother and sister grow to become heartbreakers. She'd never get the chance to make Harry understand why she had pushed him away…

With a flourish, the wizard dropped his spell and aimed his wand. "_Avada Ked_-

With instinct born of desperation, Fleur summoned the strength to roll away. The sickly green light flashed from the corner of her eye. Bouncing to her feet, Fleur called on her veela heritage one more time.

But this time she didn't want to charm him.

She wanted to burn him.

Red fire flashed from between her fingers and she flung a ball of fire at the death eater. The orb caught him in the shoulder. The death eater casually brushed the flames away with a glove. "Do you believe I would use fire magic if I could be burned, little veela." he asked confidently.

"Let's test zat." Fleur replied sweetly.

She flung a second and third fireball at him, one from each hand. All thoughts of healing flew from her mind as veela instincts, honed over millennia took over. Fleur, like many women of partially veela heritage considered herself to be civilized. Relying on their beauty and the subtler gifts, many veela women denied their baser instincts. Fleur knew that purebloods considered mating with a veela only a few steps above mating with a dog and she wanted to make sure that everyone knew that she was a person, not a beast with uncontrollable instincts. But she could feel her carefully constructed veneer falling away. She wanted burned flesh. She wanted to blacken his bones and feast on the marrow. She could feel her features sharpen, becoming more avian, more predatory. She could sense his wards weakening.

The death eater scrambled backwards. He raised his wand only to have it knocked from his hand with a well aimed fireball. A final orb struck him center of the chest, driving him to his knees.

"Please." He begged. "Don't…"

"Don't what?" Fleur mocked. "Don't kill you? Don't rape you? Don't eat you?" The young part veela raised her hands. "Zat is what you think of veela, _oui_? We are beasts that should be put down, yes? So we do not tempt good purebloods with our evil beauty? Don't worry. I'm not going to tempt you." She whispered seductively. Blue fire raced up and down her arms and a torrent flashed around the death eater. "I'm going to _burn_ you…"

Fleur watched him burn, her fire growing hotter and hotter until it was blazing white and she could no longer see his body in the center of the storm. But she still didn't stop. She couldn't stop. She wanted to burn him to ash…

Until strong old hands grasped her shoulder. "Miss Delacour, it is time to stop." A kindly voice whispered in her ear.

No. Not time yet. Has to burn more…

"Miss Delacour. Fleur." He said again. "We need your healing now. Not your fire."

Shaking from the bloodlust which had gathered, she turned around to gaze into the twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"I believe you dropped this." Dumbledore said, holding out her wand.

Fleur took several deep, calming breaths. She couldn't believe that she had lost control that badly. "Zank you."

Dumbledore shrugged. "It was nothing, Miss Delacour. The battle is nearly done. I believe your pyrotechnics have frightened many of the surviving attackers."

Fleur looked around. The battle drifted off to a different part of Hogsmead and the sounds of spells going off were growing fainter by the second. She had been so engrossed with her attacker she hadn't noticed the rest of the battle moving.

"Are you well Miss Delacour?" Dumbledore asked solicitously.

Fleur nodded. "I weel be fine. Zere are people who need 'elp. We must fine zem."

Dumbledore nodded and took the young healer's arm before both dissolving into light.

* * *

Susan landed on the ground and raced for the broom shed on the other side of the property. Sparing a glance towards her aunt, she saw a pair of Death Eaters appear. From the corner of her eye, she saw Amelia began to duel them, moving with fluid grace that belied her advanced age.

Susan darted around a large oak and took a second glance back toward her aunt. She saw that both attackers were down and her aunt was nowhere to be seen. Smiling and wishing that she could be exactly like her aunt when she grew up, Susan took off again.

It would prove to be a moment that would haunt her for the rest of her life. With a pop, a Death Eater apparated less than a dozen feet away, shooting a rapid stunner toward her in the next blink.

Ducking behind the tree, Susan let the great oak absorb the spell. Her breath came in short nervous gasps. _Oh Merlin. _She gripped her wand tightly. She'd been working in the dueling group with Harry, and she and Ron had gone at if a few times. She could do this…

Maybe.

Susan hardened her heart by thinking of her mother and darted out from behind the tree. She did what Harry had shown her, loosing a barrage of weak hexes at the lone death eater in an attempt to strip away his shields.

Caught off guard, the wizard fell backwards then stumbled as a jelly legs jinx caused him to tumble to the ground. Seizing the advantage, Susan shot a stunner at the Death Eater.

Too excited by her advantage, Susan overshot the spell and it missed the wizard. Laughing, the wizard dispelled the jinx and sent a stunner back at the pretty Hufflepuff. Deflecting the spell away from her, Susan threw up a frantic shield.

"You should have run when you had the chance, pretty girl." The Death Eater said in a guttural tone. A pass of his wand over his face caused the bone mask to melt away revealing an old man with a pale, scarred face and a heavy brow that held deep set eyes. Susan noticed that the Death Eater's eyes burned with an unnatural brightness. Spittle flew from his thin lipped mouth as he spat, "_Crucio_."

Agony flared in Susan's body. She collapsed to the ground, doubled over in pain. Distantly she felt her bowls weaken and warmth spread down her legs.

"Pissing yourself, little girl?" The old wizard drawled. "What would your dear mother say?"

With a careless twist of his wand, Susan flipped onto her back. A few flicks and her robe were reduced to tatters. "You are a pretty little thing, aren't you?" the Death Eater whispered. "Bet you have all the boys after you. Teasing them with your body. Making them do what you want." The wizard's eyes gleamed madly. "You're a naughty little thing aren't you? Just like my daughter was."

Susan couldn't answer. The spell had been lifted but it was all she could do to focus on the man in front of her. She tried to change, tried to become a tiny golden bird so that she could fly away.

"I'll fix you the way I fixed her."

She continued trying to fly away, in vain, even after the spells started cutting her.

* * *

Harry looked around frantically. Everywhere was chaos. The few Aurors who had appeared had their hands full as they fought Death Eaters and Dementors. A few brave citizen wizards had joined in the fight, but most of them were down and injured—perhaps even dead.

The part of him that was Voldemort exulted in the destruction. He wanted to see more death, more defilement of the average, happy wizard. Harry pushed that dark little voice down as best he could and focused.

He focused on a dark-garbed Dementor that had swooped down on a small child. Decaying hands pulled down its frayed hood. Harry watched as rotting lips pursed, forming a macabre lover's kiss as it bent over the small child and began drawing her soul out. An innocent little girl, too young for even her first year at Hogwarts.

No. That was too much. Something broke inside of Harry.

Not thinking about what he was doing, Harry flung out his hand, splayed fingers weaving threads of magic of unconsciously spun from his own life force and wrapped them around the creature of death. With a violent tug, he yanked the Dementor from the little girl. The creature struggled and shrieked in the invisible tangles.

Harry sagged, for the first time in months feeling the weakness of a purely mortal body, as the Dementor tore at his life energy in its frantic attempt to escape. He knew what he had to do. The knowledge poured forth into his thoughts and a dark smile graced his features. Twisted words issued from his mouth and the invisible strings glowed with red energy. Wisps of smoke curled from the Dementor's cloak as the creature struggled harder and faster, fighting for its existence. The light grew brighter until no one could bear look directly at it. Even Harry was forced to avert his eyes as his straining fingers slowly closed, sealing the Dementor's fate.

Exhausted, Harry fell to his knees. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. He fumbled for his wand, a part of his mind realizing how vulnerable he was. Why wouldn't his fingers work? Somehow he closed his resisting fingers around his wand. Muttering a spell that came unbidden to his mind, new energy surged through him and he stood again.

People stared at him, Death Eaters and Aurors alike. Witches and wizards on the street pointed at him in horror, like he was a freak. And he was. Dementors couldn't be killed, it was impossible. But he had just done it. Done the impossible, one more time.

And it was going to get him killed.

Silently Dementors left their prey, converging on his position. The cold fear that forewarned of Dementors filled him—overwhelmed him. He could hear his mother screaming, pleading for his life as he raised his wand. Trying to call upon his power, whatever he had summoned to kill that first Dementor proved futile. The words. The power. Nothing came.

Except for the Dementors. Closer and closer, they came.

Dimly, Harry heard someone summon a Patronus, but it failed to drive away the cold. He clutched his wand, blue lips trying to mouth a spell.

But he was just so cold.

* * *

Back to back, Percy and Tonks fought. Taking advantage of the fact that his girlfriend was a trained and physically fit Auror, he had convinced her to work with him on his dueling. Practice which was currently paying dividends. He had already conjured a Patronus shield to save several children from Dementors, and Tonk's chameleon had driven off several others. Like everyone else fighting in the Alley, they stopped to witness Harry Potter annihilating the Dementor that had stopped to menace a child.

"Blimey, Perce. Did you know that Harry could do that?" Tonks asked.

"No." Percy said tersely. He pointed at the gathering Dementors. "And I don't think they appreciate having their mortality demonstrated for everyone."

"We have to help him." Tonks raised her wand and shouted "_Expecto Patronum_!"

Silver light swirled and became a chameleon the size of a small dog. It materialized for a second before dissolving before the might of the collective undead.

Tonks sucked in her breath. "I'm not strong enough. There are too many of them. I can't…My Patronus isn't strong enough."

The young Auror's spell, however, shattered the moment of calm that had drifted over the battlefield. The Death Eaters rejoined the battle in earnest, doubling their efforts and Percy saw a dozen Aurors fall to stunners and killing curses.

"Perce!" Tonks whispered. She grabbed his hand and dragged him around the corner—away from the battle. "We have to do something. The Deaths Eaters are preventing anyone from helping Harry. If we don't get him away—

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM_!"

A great silver Stallion appeared, racing down the street. Rearing, silver hooves drove off the Dementors that had clustered around Harry. Percy Weasley followed the trail of the stallion with his eyes to find to origin of the spell. He couldn't believe his eyes.

It was his father.

Arthur Weasley stood at the head of two dozen goblins; standing tall in a perfect dueling stance, his wand extended and silver light still trailing like smoke from the tip. Sirius Black stood at his side, the normally jovial man flat-eyed.

Arthur held a wand to his throat. "GET THE CIVILIANS TO GRINGOTTS!" he commanded in a booming voice.

At once the goblins rushed forward, the small creatures brandishing swords, axes, and other weapons. The Death Eaters turned to meet this new threat.

Only to realize they had turned their backs on the Aurors.

* * *

"_Expello Patronum!_"

The death eater dispelled the Patronus with a wave of his wand. He casually walked over to Harry Potter. The boy who lived was struggling to his feet. He had his wand out, but his grip was shaky. The Death Eater pointed his wand. "_Avada Ked_—

A dark blur barreled into the wizard, carrying him to the ground. In the blink of an eye, Sirius black sat on the death eater's chest with his wand out. Leaning down, he hissed in the death eater's ear, "Get away from my Godson."

Maneuvering his wand Sirius pressed it to his opponent's temple. "_Stupefy,_" the former convict cried out. A red flash stunned the wizard. Not sparing him another glance, the Marauder leapt up. "Harry, are you alright?" he asked.

The Boy Who Lived nodded. "Better, now that the Dementors are gone." As he spoke Harry's voice grew stronger. He stood up straighter and tightened his grip on his wand. "We have to go after Ginny. She disappeared just before the fight."

Sirius nodded in understanding and shared a quick smile with Harry. "You dad liked redheads too." he said with a wink. Looking around, Sirius asked. "Speaking of redheads, where is Ron?"

"Ron? Oh god, Ron!" Harry suddenly remembered his friend and his predicament. It had only been moments but a lifetime had happened between Ron falling and now. Harry grabbed Sirius by the hand. "He tried to change." Harry rushed out. "But he got trapped in the middle of the change."

"A transfiguration lock." Sirius said grimly.

"I think so."

The battle raged around them but Harry only had thoughts for his friend. Even the all consuming thoughts of Ginny drifted into the backdrop, as his worry for Ron overwhelmed other concerns.

The pair darted through the battle zone. Sirius dropped beside Ron while Harry stood behind him, using his wand to deflect stray spells.

Ron lay on the ground, moaning. His skin had cracked, blood slowly oozing the fissures that had split around his wounds. It had become pebbled and scaly. Serpentine eyes stared blankly out from his friends face.

"Is he okay?" Harry asked worriedly.

"No, he isn't." Sirius said. "But he will be." The Animagus pointed his wand at the comatose redhead. "_Stupefy_."

"How does that help him?" Harry shouted.

Sirius responded grimly. "He isn't changing anymore, is he?"

"Oh."

Forcing a grin at his godson, Sirius stood levitated the comatose body of Harry's friend. "Take him to Gringotts and Floo to Saint Mungo's and get a healer to transport him. Don't take him through the floo with you. It'll kill him.

Harry nodded and accepted the transfer, but had only managed to move a few feet before an explosion of pain burst from behind his eyes.

_With a gesture of his wand, he decapitated the Auror. That was the last of them. _

* * *

"Mother, where is father?"

Draco Malfoy walked into his mother's private study. He wasn't supposed to be in there but he hadn't seen his father all day and Psyche was pestering him with questions. Draco thought he knew where his father had gone but he didn't want to worry his little sister.

His mother's study was her private workroom. Shelves covered three of the four walls and various glassware and alchemical equipment filled a table in the center of the room. Narcissa stood near the table, holding a white staff in her hand and consulting a book that lay open before her on an elaborately carved lectern. She had twisted her white blond hair into a bun and wore her customary plain white robes. For her various faults, Narcissa Malfoy was not a clothes horse. She had better things to spend her considerable time and fortune on than the vagaries of fashion and high society.

She looked up as he entered. "He has gone out on a mission for the Dark Lord, Draco."

Draco hesitated. "Is he… is he well?"

Narcissa smiled briefly. "He is fine, my son. I placed tracking and warning charms on him myself. I would know if here were to fall into any danger." With a whispered word, the staff shrank until it became a wand that she tucked it into her belt.

"I am glad you are here, Draco. I have something very important to talk with you about." Narcissa sat down in a chair and with a swish of her wand conjured a second one for her son. She patted it comfortingly and Draco hesitantly took the chair.

"You know that your sister is special?"

Draco nodded.

Narcissa looked up at the ceiling and frowned slightly, as if she were trying to divine secrets that lay there. "The Dark Lord has taken a… an interest in her. An interest that will not prove safe for her."

"But the Dark Lord…"

"…Is not more important than family." Narcissa interrupted.

Draco bowed his head. "What is it you wish?"

Narcissa pressed a ring into her son's hand. "I wish to give you a Yule present early. It has a few protective enchantments on it and it bears the Malfoy crest. More importantly it is a portkey. A portkey that will activate with a voice command only by yourself, Psyche, or me." Narcissa held her hands over her son's. "You must promise me. If the Dark Lord comes for your sister, you will do your family duty and get her away."

"Where does it go?"

"It will take you to a safe place that I have created. A charm will alert me when you have used it and I will arrive there as soon as possible." A furrow carved itself out of the marble perfection of her face. "I hope not to use it, but I fear that will be needed."

Draco stood up. "I understand mother. Thank you for the gift."

Narcissa called out as Draco was leaving. "And Draco? Don't worry your father about the gift. He has enough on his mind."

* * *

_He had come alone._

_His minions were elsewhere, doing their duty, and most of the prison guard had been pulled away to deal with the simultaneous attacks… leaving him to deal personally with the few that remained._

_As he walked through the halls he used wandless magic to unlock the doors. Hesitantly, so hesitantly, the prisoners crawled from their holes. With cries of thanks and offers of fealty, he gradually grew a train of followers, both old and new._

_But there was one he was going to free personally. His most loyal. She had endured much, and he felt her power as he approached her cell. It was different. He felt that her magic had changed, been altered by her time in prison._

_With a wave of his hand the cell door burst inward. With eyes that pierced the darkness as easily as an eagle pierced distance, he treads over fractured bones and knelt in a corner._

_The thing that lurked there had once been a beautiful woman, one the greatest beauties and mightiest witches of her generation. But her face, once so strong and defiant, was hollowed and pale by the ravages of time and incarceration. Her long dark hair, once immaculate and silken, had grown impossibly tangled and shot with grey. A torn gray shirt revealed sagging breasts and wasted musculature. Yellowed, broken nails scratched reflexively over the stone._

_But the worst were the scars. Every inch of pale, flaccid skin was covered in tiny scars that formed runes of power and magic. They wept blood and whispered of terrible power. She had mutilated herself—gone mad and carved words of power into her own flesh._

"_My Bellamorte." he whispered. "My killer angel, I have come to free you…"_

_The thing that was once a woman looked upon the wizard as she shifted into a servile position. Her voice was hideous and raspy with disuse but the fawning tone he had so loved still imbued every syllable._

"_Master…," Bellatrix Lestrange hissed. "I am ready to serve…"_

* * *

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